E  SEQUEL  TO 
A  TRAGEDY 


of  California 
Regional 
Facility 


LIBRARY 

OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Class 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  SEQUEL  TO  A 
TRAGEDY 

A  Story  of  the  Far  JFest 


BY    HENRY    C.    DIBBLE 


PHILADELPHIA    AND    LONDON 

J.     B.     LIPPINCOTT     COMPANY 

1901 


COPYRIGHT,  1900 
BY   HENRY  C.  DIBBLE 


Electrotyped  and  Printed  iy 
J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia,  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 


I    THE  WARDLEIGH  CASE 7 

II    FARRINGTON  ON  DUTY 24 

III  THE  NIGHT  RIDE 38 

IV  A  CLOSE  SHOT >>  .  .   .  47 

5    V    THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  TRAGEDY 53 

VI    THE  RIFLED  MAIL 69 

VII    THE  TRIAL 82 

VIII    THE  VERDICT 91 

IX    AN  UNEXPLAINED  WARNING 102 

X    As  Miss  JORDAN  SAW  IT 118 

XI    THE  COTTAGE  AT  BERKELEY 126 

XII    DR.  HARVEY  GUTHRIE 139 

XIII  IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH 153 

XIV  WARDLEIGH  is  BAILED 165 

:    XV    THE  THIRD  AND  LAST  TIME 175 

XVI    FARRINGTON' s  DIAGNOSIS 187 

XVII    REUNITED  FOR  A  MOMENT 196 

•XVIII    DAWN 211 

XIX  GUTHRIE  RETURNS  FROM  MELTON    ....  229 

XX  THE  SOLUTION  OF  THE  WARDLEIGH  CASE  .  246 

XXI    THE  SEQUEL  TO  THE  TRAGEDY 258 

5 


THE 

SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY 

*^>  ^r- — •»=»». 

* 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   WARDLEIGH    CASE 

ALLOW  me  to  first  introduce  myself, — Mark 
Grafton.  I  am  a  lawyer  by  profession,  married, 
as  will  appear,  and  was  forty  years  of  age  at 
the  time  of  which  I  shall  write;  though  that 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  story.  In  fact,  I 
am  not  one  of  the  characters.  My  part  is  simply 
to  set  down  for  you  the  movement  of  an  inter 
esting  and  I  may  say  thrilling  drama,  as  it  came 
under  my  observation.  True,  I  was  drawn  into 
it  somewhat,  helped  the  play  along  as  it  were, — 
even  aided  in  hastening  and  directing  the  crisis 
and  denouement ;  still,  I  repeat,  I  am  not  one  of 
the  actors. 

With  this  explanation  let  me  proceed  at  once 
to  place  the  whole  affair  before  you  in  a  straight 
forward  manner. 

7 


8 

One  evening  in  the  early  summer  of  1884  I 
was  standing  within  the  great  court  of  the  Pal 
ace  Hotel  in  San  Francisco  watching  a  throng 
of  idle  but  interested  people  and  listening  to  a 
quaint,  sweet  melody  by  the  Royal  Hawaiian 
Band,  which  occupied  the  centre  of  the  paved 
space.  The  musicians,  mostly  half-caste  Ha- 
'waiians,  were  in  San  Francisco  to  meet  the  sister 
of  the  reigning  king  of  the  islands,  the  Princess 
Liliuokolani,  heiress  to  the  throne,  who  was  re 
turning  from  an  Eastern  journey. 

As  I  recall  the  occasion,  which  was  the  be 
ginning  of  a  brief  period  of  intense,  dramatic 
interest  to  me,  I  remember  that  I  was  impressed 
by  the  cosmopolitan  appearance  of  those  who 
were  standing  and  moving  about.  San  Fran 
cisco  was  then,  and  is  now  for  that  matter,  pro 
vincial  enough  as  compared  to  the  great  cities, 
yet  it  was  in  the  pathway  of  travel  around  the 
world  and  was  the  metropolis  of  the  Pacific 
We'st.  The  Palace  Hotel  was  a  noted  hostelry, 
and  on  that  very  occasion  there  were  among  the 
thousand  and  more  guests  several  persons,  in 
cluding  the  dark  princess,  who  have  since  then 
at  times  occupied  somewhat  of  the  world's  at 
tention. 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  9 

As  the  music  paused  I  fell  to  listening  to  a 
conversation  between  a  couple  of  acquaintances 
near  by,  one  of  whom  was  relating  something 
concerning  the  eccentricities  of  a  certain  noble 
marquis  well  known  to  the  sporting  world.  This 
nobleman  had  arrived  that  day  from  Australia. 
At  that  moment  he  was  standing  at  a  little  dis 
tance  in  conversation  with  a  tall,  handsome,  half- 
breed  Hawaiian  who  belonged  to  the  suite  of  the 
princess;  her  party  in  passing  from  the  dining- 
hall  had  stopped  for  a  few  moments  at  one  of 
the  doors  leading  into  the  court  to  listen  to  the 
national  Hawaiian  air  which  the  band  had 
struck  up. 

Just  then  there  was  a  slight  commotion  in  the 
crowd  as  two  noticeable  young  men  entered  and 
approached  the  marquis.  They  were  followed 
by  a  motley  crowd  of  a  dozen  or  more,  some  of 
whom  were  from  the  street,  while  others  had 
fallen  in  from  the  corridors  and  court.  One 
of  the  men  with  whom  I  was  standing  told  me 
that  the  visitors  were  two  famous  American 
athletes  who  had  come  to  the  hotel  to  pay  their 
respects  to  the  marquis.  The  scene  amused  me 
and  I  drew  a  little  nearer. 

It  amused  me,  I  say,  but  only  for  a  moment; 


I0  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

then  my  eyes  fell  upon  the  face  of  one  of  those 
who  had  followed  in  from  the  street. 

I  was  startled.  Not  because  the  face  was  the 
most  strikingly  sinister  I  had  ever  seen,  but  be 
cause  I  immediately  recognized  the  man  as  a 
murderer;  or  at  least  as  one  who  had  once  at 
tempted  a  deliberate  and  cowardly  murder  under 
my  own  eyes, — a  crime  for  which  he  was  con 
victed  and  sentenced  to  imprisonment  for  a  long 
term.  I  remembered,  too,  that  he  had  the  repu 
tation  on  the  Arizona  frontier,  where  I  had  seen 
him  three  years  before,  of  having  been  more 
successful  in  the  commission  of  other  bloody 
crimes.  I  looked  at  him  again,  sharply.  He 
was  well  inside  the  crowd  and  I  could  only  get 
a  glimpse  of  his  face  under  a  dark  slouch  hat. 
There  could  be  no  mistake;  it  was  Rolla  Clan- 
ton,  known  by  the  sobriquet  of  "  Claw"  Clanton 
because  of  a  peculiar  scar  or  birth-mark  on  his 
face. 

The  Hawaiian  music,  the  marquis  and  his 
friends  were  out  of  my  mind  in  an  instant.  The 
sight  of  Clanton's  face  had  the  curious  effect 
of  opening  a  flood  of  light  upon  my  memory, 
and  the  whole  panorama  of  a  never-to-be-for 
gotten  night  stretched  away  before  me.  I  hardly 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY  IX 

thought  of  Clanton  again.  It  did  not  occur  to 
me  at  the  time  that  he  was  probably  an  escaped 
convict.  I  recall  that  I  had  a  faint  impression 
that  he  must  have  been  pardoned,  and  the  asso 
ciation  of  ideas  revived  a  vague  recollection  that 
I  had  heard  that  he  was  highly  connected,  politi 
cally,  in  one  of  the  Southwestern  States. 

However,  I  certainly  did  not  give  the  fellow  a 
second  thought,  nor  did  I  even  look  towards  him 
again.  Instead  I  fell  into  a  profound  revery, — 
a  bad  habit  of  mine.  I  was  oblivious  to  every 
thing  about  me  and,  without  knowing  that  I  did 
so,  dropped  into  a  vacant  seat  against  the  side  of 
the  court.  Of  what  was  I  thinking?  Of  noth 
ing  connected  with  the  brilliant  scene  before  me ; 
of  no  one,  now,  except  Lloyd  Farrington,  the 
most  manly  man  I  had  ever  known,  though  my 
acquaintance  with  him  had  been  very  brief. 
Thinking  of  him  thus  I  fell  to  wondering 
whether  I  should  ever  see  him  again. 

Then  occurred  a  curious  coincidence;  after 
some  time,  how  long  I  do  not  know,  I  suddenly 
looked  up;  a  short  distance  away  I  saw  Lloyd 
Farrington  himself  approaching.  He  had  evi 
dently  just  entered  the  hotel,  and  from  his  glance 
I  was  instantly  impressed  with  the  idea  that  he 


I2  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

was  coming  there  to  find  me.  To  say  that  I  was 
surprised  hardly  expresses  the  sensation  I  felt; 
I  was  really  startled.  Involuntarily  I  turned 
to  see  if  Clanton  was  still  there,  but  he  had  gone. 
The  little  marquis  was  standing  farther  off  talk 
ing  with  an  acquaintance.  Turning  again  to 
wards  Farrington,  I  arose  as  he  came  forward 
with  a  smile  of  recognition. 

He  was  a  strikingly  handsome  man.  Not 
over  seven-and-twenty,  he  was  slightly  above 
the  medium  height,  erect  as  an  Indian,  with 
a  well-knit  frame.  His  dark-blue  eyes  were 
remarkably  bright,  deep,  and  penetrating.  His 
features  were  clean  cut  and  of  the  Greek  type. 
His  face  was  clean  shaven.  Hair  brown ;  com 
plexion  fair  but  sunburnt;  a  forehead  without 
a  line ;  faultless  teeth.  He  was  dressed  plainly, 
but  wore  a  soft  black  felt  hat,  which  marked 
him  slightly  out  of  the  usual  line  of  city  men. 

He  greeted  me  cordially,  with  that  gentle  dig 
nity  which  always  characterized  him.  I  ob 
served  the  same  profoundly  sad  expression  on 
his  face  which  I  remembered  so  well. 

"  How  fortunate  I  am  in  finding  you !"  said 
he.  "  I  came  in  for  that  purpose." 

I  replied  that  I  was  delighted  to  see  him,  and 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  ^ 

asked  some  direct  questions  as  to  his  arrival  in 
the  city. 

"I  came  up  from  Tucson  several  days  ago," 
he  replied;  "and,  to  come  to  business  at  once, 
I  am  in  a  world  of  trouble  in  regard  to  a  dear 
friend.  You  can  help  me,  I  think,  and  I  feel 
no  hesitation  in  asking  you." 

He  spoke  so  seriously,  and  his  voice,  always 
very  soft,  vibrated  so  sympathetically,  that  my 
attention  was  at  once  arrested.  My  thoughts 
flashed  back  to  what  I  had  known  of  him, — to 
the  "story  of  his  life"  (so  he  called  it),  as  he 
had  related  it  to  me  on  the  memorable  night 
which  had  been  brought  to  my  recollection  so 
strikingly  a  few  minutes  before.  I  therefore 
awaited  his  communication  with  the  deepest  in 
terest. 

The  music  had  now  ceased  and  the  crowd  was 
passing  out.  We  walked  towards  the  front,  en 
tered  the  large  reading-room  to  the  right,  and 
found  a  quiet  place. 

"  I  suppose  that  you  do  not  know,"  he 
said,  "  that  I  have  been  near  you  for  several 
days?" 

I  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  and  waited  further 
explanation. 


I4  THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  "I  have  been  in  the 
United  States  District  Court  watching  the  trial 
of  the  Wardleigh  case." 

I  was  at  that  time  United  States  Attorney 
for  the  District  of  California,  and  had  that  day 
concluded  a  remarkable  criminal  prosecution  in 
which  I  had  secured  the  conviction  of  one  Luke 
Wardleigh,  on  an  indictment  fcjr  rifling  the 
United  States  mails,  he  having  been  a  deputy- 
postmaster  at  the  town  of  Melton. 

I  remarked,  by  way  of  answer,  that  I  had  not 
noticed  him  in  court,  and  began  to  go  over  some 
of  the  points  in  the  case,  being  full  of  the  mat 
ter,  when  he  interrupted. 

"Pardon  me,  Mr.  Grafton,"  he  said,  "but  I 
heard  your  summing  up  and  the  judge's  charge, 
not  to  mention  the  argument  of  Mr.  Kenton, 
Wardleigh's  attorney.  I  am  quite  familiar  with 
the  case.  My  interest  now  lies  only  in  the  pris 
oner." 

I  again  observed  that  sympathetic  vibration 
of  his  voice,  and  then  that  a  mist  had  come  over 
the  light  of  his  violet  eyes. 

"Why,  Farrington,"  I  exclaimed,  impetu 
ously,  "  what  interest  can  you  have  in  that  young 
man?  When  I  knew  you  in  Arizona  you  had 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY  i£ 

the  reputation  of  being  the  implacable  foe  of  all 
such  gentry." 

He  appeared  surprised  and,  after  quite  a 
pause,  during  which  he  seemed  to  be  reflecting, 
asked, — 

"Is  it  possible  that  you  did  not  recognize 
Luke  Wardleigh  in  court?" 

It  was  my  time  to  be  surprised,  and  I  too 
paused.  Then  in  a  moment  I  recollected  a 
curious  impression  to  which  I  had  been  subject 
during  the  trial.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had 
somewhere  seen  the  prisoner  before.  Without 
speaking  of  or  intimating  this,  however,  I  merely 
said  that  I  had  no  recollection  of  ever  having 
seen  Wardleigh  until  his  arrest 

"Ah,  well,"  said  Farrington,  "I  cannot  see 
that  it  would  have  made  any  difference.  My 
object  in  seeking  you  this  evening  was  not  to 
speak  of  his  past,  but  to  ask  you  if  it  would 
be  possible  to  have  him  sentenced  to  serve  what 
ever  term  of  imprisonment  may  be  imposed  in 
the  Alameda  County  jail,  in  Oakland.  My  dear 
old  mother,  of  whom  I  once  told  you,  still  lives 
in  Berkeley,  and  we  could  do  something  to  alle 
viate  the  horror  of  his  confinement."  He  turned 
his  face  away  from  me  for  a  moment  and  then 


j6  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

proceeded:  "I  know  that  since  there  are  no 
United  States'  prisons,  the  Federal  judges  in 
pronouncing  sentence  exercise  considerable  lati 
tude  and  discretion  in  the  matter  of  fixing  the 
place  of  punishment.  I  know,  too,  that  it  is 
quite  customary  for  the  judges  in  the  United 
States  courts  to  consult  with  and  even  to  take 
suggestions  from  the  United  States'  attorneys 
in  regard  to  the  disposition  of  prisoners." 

As  he  said  this,  disclosing  a  certain  familiarity 
with  the  Federal  courts  and  their  practice,  I  re 
membered  that  since  my  brief  but  dramatic  ac 
quaintance  with  him  in  Southern  Arizona — 
where  he  held  a  responsible  position  in  the  em 
ployment  of  Wells,  Fargo  &  Co. — I  had  seen 
his  name  in  the  blue  book  among  the  special 
agents  of  the  department  of  justice.  I  had  not 
connected  him  with  the  name  at  the  time,  but 
I  now  found  myself  wondering  whether  he  had 
accepted  service  in  the  department  for  the  pur 
pose  of  returning  to  the  study  of  law,  which  he 
had  been  compelled  to  abandon  under  the  most 
romantic  yet  tragic  circumstances  imaginable. 

However,  these  thoughts  merely  flashed  across 
my  mind  and  did  not  divert  my  attention. 

I  saw,  rather  from  his  manner  and  tone  of 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  I7 

voice  than  from  anything  he  had  said,  that  he 
was  deeply  interested  in  young  Wardleigh's 
case;  I  felt  such  a  warm  regard  for  him  that 
I  experienced  the  keenest  regret  at  what  I  was 
obliged  to  say. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Farrington,"  I  replied,  "  that 
I  cannot  aid  you  in  this  matter,  though  I  would 
gladly  do  so  for  your  sake.  Wardleigh  was 
indicted  for  opening  valuable  letters;  he  being 
a  post-office  employe,  the  minimuhi  punishment 
is  one  year  at  hard  labor.  The  judge  has  no 
discretion.  He  must  sentence  him  to  serve  at 
least  that  term  in  one  of  the  State  prisons." 

I  could  see  in  the  dim  light  of  the  room  that 
the  color  had  left  Farrington's  face  and  that 
in  his  eyes  there  was  a  look  of  anguish.  He 
bowed  his  head  in  silence  for  a  while,  then 
placing  his  hand  on  mine  and  looking  me  frankly 
in  the  face,  he  said, — 

"  Do  not  think,  my  dear  Mr.  Graf  ton,  that  I 
blame  you  in  any  way  for  this  terrible  calamity 
that  has  befallen  me." 

"Befallen  you!"  I  interrupted.  "I  do  not 
understand  you." 

"  Yes,"  he  exclaimed,  *'  it  is  indeed  my  sor 
row  ;  not  alone  because  I  owe  my  life  to  him,  as 
2 


jg  THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

you  know,  but  because  for  other  reasons  which 
I  need  not  explain,  but  which  you  understand, 
his  welfare,  his  honor,  are  dearer  to  me  than 
my  own  existence." 

I  was  astonished, — dazed.  I  could  not  im 
agine  what  he  meant  by  saying  I  knew  that 
Wardleigh  had  saved  his  life.  I  said  as  much. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said;  "  I  thought  I  had  re 
called  to  your  memory  that  night  of  marvellous 
beauty,  of  stirring  adventure,  and  of  wonderful 
good  fortune  to  me,  when  we  rode  together  from 
Tombstone  to  Benson, — I  see  that  you  remember 
now.  Yes,  it  was  he,  young  Wardleigh,  who 
that  night  thwarted  as  desperate  a  man  as  ever 
robbed  a  stage  or  a  train,  and  beyond  all  proba 
bility  saved  my  life.  Now  that  you  recall  the 
event  you  will  doubtless  remember  my  story, — 
you  will  remember  whose  brother  Luke  Ward 
leigh  is." 

I  was  speechless  and  could  only  incoherently 
murmur  my  astonishment.  He  was  deeply  af 
fected,  but  rallied  himself  and  continued, — 

"Let  me  repeat,  Mr.  Graf  ton,  I  have  no 
thought  of  blaming  you  in  the  least.  I  wit 
nessed  the  trial,  as"  I  have  just  told  you.  It 
was  absolutely  fair  so  far  as  I  could  see.  The 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY  IO/ 

judge  was  not  more  severe  than  the  facts  as 
proven  seemed  to  warrant.  The  jury  could  not 
have  done  other  than  convict.  The  only  thing 
that  I  cannot  understand," — he  said  this  with 
rapidly  rising  bitterness  that  he  seemed  unable 
to  check, — "  the  only  thing  that  I  cannot  under 
stand  is  that  Luke's  attorney  could  have  re 
strained  himself,  knowing,  as  he  did,  as  well  as 
I  do,  that  his  client  was  guiltless." 

"Mr.  Farrington,"  said  I,  "I  fear  that  you 
are  carried  away  by  your  friendship.  I  wish  to 
God  that  your  faith  in  your  friend  could  be 
sustained  by  the  facts,  but  a  more  absolutely 
complete  case  was  never  made  out.  Of  Luke 
Wardleigh's  guilt  there  can  be  no  doubt." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  he  with  firmness  and  dig 
nity  yet  with  suppressed  excitement,  "Luke 
Wardleigh  never  rifled  a  letter,  never  stole  so 
much  as  a  penny  in  his  life."  Then,  mastering 
his  emotion  with  a  powerful  effort,  he  con 
tinued  in  a  calm  tone,  "  I  beg  you  not  to  repeat 
my  words,  and  if  possible,  forget  them.  It  was 
a  breach  of  faith  on  my  part  to  allow  myself  to 
say  as  much.  My  mouth  is  closed  by  a  sacred 
promise." 

He   arose,   placed   his   hat   upon   his   head, 


20  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

grasped  my  hand  warmly,  with  a  look  of  deep 
sorrow  in  his  eyes  which  quite  unnerved  me, 
and  started  to  pass  out  of  the  room.  I  was  loath 
to  part  with  him,  and  so  walked  silently  by  his 
side  out  into  the  corridor  which  ran  into  the 
court  and  extended  beyond  to  Market  Street. 
I  intended  to  accompany  him  to  that  entrance, 
which  was  some  distance  away.  Just  as  we 
passed  out  of  the  reading-room,  however,  and  as 
we  were  about  to  cross  the  court,  the  great  doors 
leading  to  the  front  entrance  on  New  Mont 
gomery  Street  were  thrown  open  and  a  consid 
erable  mob  of  excited  and  enthusiastic  men  and 
boys  came  surging  into  the  court.  They  were 
following  a  noted  pugilist  then  in  the  city  who 
was  coming  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  marquis. 

So  we  turned  and  walked  into  the  corridor  and 
across  the  court.  In  the  mean  time  my  thoughts 
had  recurred  to  the  face  I  had  seen  just  before 
meeting  Farrington.  The  matter  was  suddenly 
thrust  upon  my  mind  again  with  a  strange  rush 
and  force  that  caused  me  to  look  about  to  see 
if  I  could  discern  Clanton. 

"Farrington,"  I  inquired,  taking  his  arm  as 
we  walked  down  towards  the  Market  Street  en 
trance,  "  how  did  it  happen  that '  Claw'  Clanton, 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY  2I 

who  attempted  to  assassinate  you  that  night,  was 
released  from  Yuma  prison  ?" 

"  Why,  he  has  not  been  released,  nor  will  he 
be  until  his  term  expires,"  replied  Farrington, 
rather  sharply.  "  What  gave  you  that  idea?" 

"  Yet  he  has  been  released,"  said  I,  abruptly. 
"  I  saw  him  in  this  hotel  to-night." 

Farrington  stopped  short  and  looked  at  me 
with  incredulous  surprise.  I  then  told  him  what 
I  have  already  related,  dwelling  upon  my  im 
pression  that  Clanton  had  been  pardoned. 

"  I  wanted  to  get  over  to  Oakland  as  early  as 
possible  to  join  Luke,"  said  he,  quietly  and  sadly, 
"  but  perhaps  I  had  better  look  into  this  matter 
first."  He  turned  back,  and  while  we  walked 
about  together  he  looked  over  the  crowd ;  Clan- 
ton  was  not  to  be  seen.  Then  he  went  to  the 
telephone  in  the  carriage-office  adjoining  the 
reading-room  and  held  a  long  conversation  with 
the  police  department,  as  he  told  me  when  he 
came  out.  While  waiting  for  him — I  was  in 
the  shadow  myself — I  fancied  I  saw  a  man  flit 
into  the  alley  across  New  Montgomery  Street 
facing  the  main  entrance  in  which  I  was  stand 
ing,  but  there  was  not  enough  Jn  the  circum 
stance  to  warrant  my  mentioning  it  to  Lloyd. 


22  THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

I  went  to.  Market  Street  with  Farrington,  and 
as  we  were  about  to  part  I  casually  remarked 
that  Wardleigh  would  not  be  sent  to  San  Quin- 
tin  prison  at  once,  and  that  I  might  wish  to  see 
him  in  regard  to  the  matter  concerning  which  he 
has  spoken  to  me.  I  was  deeply  impressed  by 
what  he  had  said  at  the  conclusion  of  our  inter 
view,  but  I  did  not  wish  to  raise  false  hopes. 
That  Wardleigh  was  guilty  seemed  beyond  all 
question,  and  in  that  light  my  duty  was  plain. 
Yet  the  tense  tone  of  Farrington's  sad  voice  was 
still  ringing  in  my  inner  consciousness.  I 
seemed  to  hear  his  words:  "Luke  Wardleigh 
never  rifled  a  letter,  never  stole  so  much  as  a 
penny  in  his  life." 

We  parted  without  speaking  another  word. 
Farrington  held  my  hand  for  a  moment  while 
he  was  waiting  for  the  cable  car  to  come  along, 
and  as  I  looked  into  his  eyes,  so  wistful,  so  ten 
der,  so  true,  and  so  brave  withal,  my  own  were 
dimmed. 

He  sprang  aboard  the  car  without  stopping 
it  and  stepped  inside.  I  stood  where  he  had  left 
me  for  a  few  moments  without  any  purpose. 
Another  car  passed  towards  the  ferry,  not  a  half- 
block  behind  the  one  which  Farrington  had 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY  23 

boarded.  A  little  distance  down  the  street  I 
saw  a  man  step  rapidly  from  the  sidewalk  and 
jump  on  the  rear  platform  in  an  awkward,  stum 
bling  way.  The  night  was  foggy  and  murky, 
but  I  was  almost  certain  that  it  was  Clanton. 


CHAPTER   II 

FARRINGTON   ON   DUTY 

How  well  I  remember  the  events  of  that  night 
in  Arizona  three  years  before,  which  were  so 
vividly  recalled  by  seeing  Rolla  Clanton  and  by 
meeting  Lloyd  Farrington  again! 

Important  legal  business  for  Eastern  clients 
had  taken  me  to  Tombstone,  where  I  had  been 
for  three  or  four  weeks.  I  was  about  to  go 
to  New  York  to  meet  my  principals  and  report ; 
but  before  starting  East  it  became  necessary  to 
visit  Tucson,  where  the  United  States  Land 
Office  was  located. 

Tombstone,  in  Southern  Arizona  not  far  from 
the  Mexican  border,  was  at  that  time  a  typical 
.Western  mining  camp;  though  the  place  had  a 
population  of  but  five  thousand  to  six  thousand, 
it  had  the  assumption  of  a  metropolis.  The 
great  mines  of  the  famous  camp  were  in  full 
operation,  yielding  an  output  of  from  fifteen 
thousand  to  twenty  thousand  dollars  of  silver 
bullion  a  day.  A  thousand  men  were  employed 
in  the  mining  and  milling  operations,  and  the 
24 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  -         25 

wages  were  four  dollars  every  day  in  the  month. 
As  may  be  imagined,  it  made  lively  times.  Gam 
blers,  stage-robbers,  desperate  characters  of 
every  sort,  were  attracted  to  the  place. 

The  town  in  the  daylight,  and  from  a  distance 
as  you  came  across  the  mesa  from  Contention 
or  from  the  Dragoon  Mountains,  where  old 
Cochise,  the  Apache  chief,  had  had  his  strong 
hold,  or  as  you  wound  over  the  Tombstone 
Range  from  the  San  Pedro  Valley,  looked  like 
a  city  in  Central  Asia.  Not  a  tree  in  sight; 
low,  flat-roofed  adobe  buildings,  and  wooden 
structures  not  distinguishable  from  them  in  the 
dust  and  glare  of  the  burning  sunlight;  here 
and  there  a  more  pretentious  house  of  the  same 
type.  It  had  not  rained  in  nine  months.  Not 
a  spear  of  grass  was  to  be  seen;  not  a  green 
shrub.  Everything  was  gray  and  brown.  The 
dust  lay  a  half-foot  deep  on  the  approaching 
roads  except  where  the  way  was  rocky.  As  you 
drove  in  and  down  the  principal  street  the  Ori 
ental  aspect  changed,  and  you  saw  a  straggling 
Western  town  with  certain  Mexican  features. 
If  the  sun  were  high  the  place  appeared  almost 
deserted.  A  few  Mexican  women  and  ragged 
children  were  visible  on  the  outskirts;  here  and 


26  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

there  a  mechanic  leisurely  and  lazily  toiled  at 
some  building  work;  a  few  men  were  around 
the  corrals  along  the  streets;  and  at  the  doors 
of  the  saloons  hung  small  groups  of  idlers.  The 
mass  of  the  men  were  at  the  mines,  which  were 
near  by,  or  asleep,  if  off  duty.  The  heat  was 
intense  but  not  oppressive.  For  days  in  succes 
sion  the  thermometer  would  range  from  100° 
to  105°  F.  at  mid-day,  but  the  air  was  exceed 
ingly  dry  and  sunstrokes  were  unknown. 

It  was  only  at  night  that  the  streets  became 
picturesque  and  interesting.  At  that  altitude — 
five  thousand  feet — the  temperature  fell  rapidly 
as  the  sun  declined.  Then  as  the  peach-bloom 
haze  began  to  gather  in  the  west,  a  beautiful 
phenomenon  that  precedes  the  gorgeous  sunsets 
which  are  always  seen  in  the  rarefied  atmosphere 
of  this  arid  region,  the  people  would  gather  be 
fore  their  houses  and  in  public  places  to  witness 
the  splendors  of  the  sky  and  to  enjoy  the  cool 
of  the  evening.  As  the  night  fell  the  saloons 
and  gambling-houses,  lighted  by  great  swinging 
lamps,  soon  filled  with  a  motley  crowd.  The 
mass  of  the  men  were  individually  not  distin 
guishable  in  their  brown  overalls,  gray  woollen 
shirts,  and  wide-brimmed  soft  hats,  but  here 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY  2j 

and  there  was  to  be  seen  a  man  in  city  dress, — a 
drummer,  a  traveller,  or  a  "  tenderfoot"  not  yet 
fallen  into  the  ways  and  customs  of  the  place. 
Scattered  among  the  crowd  were  to  be  seen  a 
few  men  more  picturesque  and  noticeable,  wear 
ing  buckskin  leggings  in  top-boots,  loose  jackets 
variously  trimmed,  belted,  and  with  sombreros 
decorated  with  silver  in  the  Mexican  style. 
These  were  called,  and  sometimes  called  them 
selves,  "Cowboys;"  a  misnomer,  for  the  name 
belongs  to  an  honest  though  rough  class  of 
cattle-herders  in  the  more  eastern  portion  of  the 
Western  country.  These  were  simply  adven 
turers  and  desperadoes  such  as  are  always  found 
at  the  front  in  new  territory  as  it  opens  to  civili 
zation.  There  was  a  great  gathering  of  this 
class  at  Tombstone.  Two  tides  met  here,  one 
rushing  to  these  new  mines  from  California, 
Nevada,  and  the  extreme  Northwest,  and  an 
other  from  Colorado,  New  Mexico,  and  West 
ern  Texas. 

There  were  no  arms  in  sight,  and  few  worn. 
The  city  marshal  was  a  brave,  determined,  un 
assuming  man,  who  in  a  firm,  quiet  way  dis 
armed  those  who  rode  armed  into  town,  retain 
ing  their  Winchesters  and  revolvers  until  they 


2g  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

should  be  ready  to  ride  out.  At  least  this  was 
the  order,  although  it  was  known  that  many  left 
their  weapons  in  the  corrals  with  their  horses. 

I  say  that  I  have  a  most  vivid  recollection  of 
one  particular  night;  this  is  principally  on  ac 
count  of  the  stirring  adventure  of  which  I  was 
a  witness,  but  partially  also  because  of  the  beau 
tiful  and  glorious  phenomenon  which  I  then  be 
held  in  the  heavens.  The  skies,  there,  at  all 
times  outrival  in  brilliancy  anything  to  be  seen 
elsewhere  in  the  northern  hemisphere. 

It  was  the  nth  of  June,  1881.  The  day  had 
been  very  hot,  and  when  evening  fell  the  relief 
was  most  grateful.  The  sun  set  in  all  its  bril 
liant  and  resplendent  glory.  Just  as  it  went 
down  in  a  sea  of  gorgeous  color  the  full  moon 
arose  in  a  flood  of  silver  light  over  the  low 
eastern  end  of  the  Dragoon  Range,  where  the 
ruins  of  the  ancient  Turquoise  mines  are  seen. 
I  was  on  a  balcony  fronting  to  the  north,  enjoy 
ing  the  splendor  of  the  scene  and  building  cas 
tles  perhaps,  when  I  noticed  the  approach  of 
Lloyd  Farrington.  He  was  younger  then  by 
three  years  than  when  he  came  to  me  at  the 
Palace  Hotel.  His  appearance  was  worthy  of 
more  than  a  passing  glance.  He  wore  a  fine 


THE   SEQUEL   TO  A  TRAGEDY  29 

Panama  hat,  a  little  back  on  his  head,  showing 
his  faultless  forehead;  a  jacket  of  gray  stuff 
gathered  in  front  and  buttoned  to  the  throat, 
above  which  appeared  the  collar  of  a  lamb's-wool 
shirt  and  a  simple  soft  blue  silk  tie;  a  pair  of 
tightly-fitting  doeskin  breeches  and  top-boots. 
About  his  waist  was  a  belt  filled  with  cartridges. 
To  the  belt  hung  the  leathern  holsters  of  two 
revolvers,  which  could  be  seen  glistening  with 
silver  and  ivory.  In  his  left  hand  he  carried, 
with  as  much  ease  as  if  it  were  a  riding-whip, 
a  very  short  double-barrelled  breach-loading 
gun;  a  peculiar  weapon  with  which  the  mes 
sengers  and  guards  on  Western  coaches  arm 
themselves.  Loaded  with  cartridges  of  buck 
shot  it  is  a  deadly  weapon  in  a  close  encounter. 
On  his  left  breast  there  was  a  small  gold  badge 
with  the  words,  in  black  enamel,  "  U.  S.  Dy. 
Marshal." 

After  the  customary  salutations  he  remarked, 
"I  notice  that  you  are  booked  at  the  stage- 
office  for  a  ride  to  Benson  to-night." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  fortunate  in  having 
secured  a  seat  with  the  driver,  and  anticipate 
the  pleasure  of  your  company,  as  I  understand 
that  you  also  go  to  Benson  on  the  stage." 


3o  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

My  friend,  Colonel  Chester,  with  whom  I  was 
stopping,  came  out  just  then,  greeted  Farrington 
cordially  and  asked  him  in.  We  all  took  seats 
on  the  balcony. 

This  was  not  my  first  meeting  with  Farrington ; 
that  took  place  under  very  peculiar,  and  I  may 
say  interesting,  circumstances.  Perhaps  I  can 
not  do  better  than  to  quote  a  typical  account  of 
the  incident  as  it  appeared  in  a  local  paper.  It 
is  necessary  to  relate  the  particulars  of  the  event, 
as  it  has  an  important  bearing  on  the  develop 
ment  of  the  story.  But  before  copying  the  ex 
cerpt  from  the  Tombstone  Epitaph,  which  was 
the  cheerful  name  of  the  enterprising  paper  to 
which  I  am  under  obligations,  let  me  set  down 
what  else  I  have  to  say  at  this  time  of  Farring 
ton. 

Colonel  Chester,  the  gentleman  in  charge  of 
the  enterprise  whose  owners  I  represented,  had 
known  him  for  some  time  and  was  very  fond 
of  him.  On  two  or  three  occasions  while  I  was 
in  Tombstone  Farrington  had  dined  with  the 
colonel,  and  I  became  well  acquainted  with  him 
and  found  him  delightful  company;  a  perfect 
gentleman  in  his  bearing,  well-informed,  and, 
withal,  a  most  interesting  raconteur.  In  a  sim- 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY  31 

pie  and  charming  style,  always  modestly  keep 
ing  himself  in  the  background,  I  heard  him  tell 
of  many  adventures,  which  he  called  "  interest 
ing  incidents,"  that  would  have  sufficiently  filled 
the  lives  of  far  older  men.  I  learned  from  my 
friend  something  of  his  past.  He  was  then  not 
above  four-and-twenty,  but  for  some  years  he 
had  been  noted  in  California,  Nevada,  and  Ari 
zona  as  a  fearless  and  absolutely  trustworthy 
man.  He  was  a  graduate  of  the  University  of 
California,  and  had  studied  law,  but  for  some 
reason  he  never  came  to  the  bar,  having  appar 
ently  preferred  employment  in  the  service  of 
Wells,  Fargo  &  Co.'s  Express.  He  became  a 
special  agent  of  that  great  corporation,  and  was 
intrusted  with  delicate  and  dangerous  work  at 
various  places  where  the  strong  boxes  of  the 
company  were  claimed  as  legitimate  .prey  by  the 
Knights  of  the  Road,  who  infested  every  mining 
section  of  the  Pacific  Coast.  It  had  always  been 
a  mystery,  so  the  colonel  said,  that  so  young  a 
man  should  so  soon  have  become  a  terror  to  evil 
doers.  He  had  come  to  Arizona  a  year  before 
to  protect  the  company's  interests  at  Tombstone, 
then  the  most  important  mining  point  on  the 
coast.  He  held  a  commission  as  a  deputy  mar- 


32  THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

shal  merely  that  he  might  have  authority  to 
make  arrests  in  cases  where  the  United  States 
mails  should  be  delayed  or  violated.  He  had 
supervising  charge  of  the  interests  of  the  com 
pany  in  the  Territory,  and  all  messengers, 
guards,  and  local  agents  were  subject  to  his 
control.  He  made  his  head-quarters  at  Tomb 
stone.  He  knew  all  the  desperate  characters  in 
the  region — and  they  knew  him.  A  keen  and 
far-seeing  detective,  he  was  able  to  thwart  many 
of  their  enterprises  by  suddenly  appearing  when 
and  where  he  was  not  expected. 

Now  to  the  account  of  my  first  meeting  with 
Farrington,  which  occurred  four  weeks  before 
the  night  in  question.  The  details  were  pub 
lished  in  several  of  the  newspapers  of  the  Ter 
ritory  at  the  time.  I  select  from  the  Epitaph, 
which  I  preserved.  The  flaring  head-lines  are 
omitted : 

"A  dastardly  effort  to  rob  the  Benson  Stage 
on  the  upward  trip  between  this  city  and  Con 
tention  was  thwarted  yesterday  by  the  courage, 
presence  of  mind  and  extraordinary  skill  of 
young  Farrington,  the  popular  special  agent  of 
Wells,  Fargo  &  Co.'s  Express.  We  are  told 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY  33 

that  he  had  an  intimation  that  the  attempt 
would  be  made,  and  it  would  seem  that  some 
body  at  Tucson  must  be  in  collusion  with -the 
robbers,  for  yesterday,  of  all  other  days,  would 
have  given  them  a  rich  haul  if  they  had  suc 
ceeded. 

\  "  Hudson's  Bank  sent  to  its  agency  here 
twenty-seven  thousand  dollars  in  coin,  several 
days  ahead  of  the  usual  time  of  shipment,  to 
meet  the  pay-rolls  of  the  Grand  Central  Mine. 
Farrington  took  Dave  Colgate,  one  of  the  oldest 
and  most  experienced  messengers  in  the  service 
of  the  company,  and  went  down  to  Benson  night 
before  last.  They  came  up  riding  with  Cuth 
Raymond,  the  driver,  as  far  as  Contention,  six 
teen  miles  from  Benson  and  eight  miles  from 
this  city.  Farrington,  knowing  the  ways  of  the 
Road  Agents,  did  not  look  for  an  attack  until 
night.  At  Contention  the  heavy  iron-bound 
box  containing  the  coin  was  taken  from  the  boot 
and  placed  in  the  body  of  the  coach  under  the 
forward  seat.  A  light  way-box,  containing  little 
or  nothing,  was  put  in  the  usual  place  in  the  boot. 
Farrington  then  gave  certain  instructions  to  the 
driver,  and  with  Colgate  took  his  seat  inside. 
There  were  four  passengers, — three  gentlemen 

3 


34  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

and  a  lady  from  Silver  City  who  was  coming 
to  join  her  husband  there. 

"About  four  miles  out  of  Contention  and  just 
as  it  became  dusky — we  understand  that  the 
team,  six  of  Sandy  Bob's  best  horses,  had  been 
pushed  and  was  ahead  of  time — Raymond  saw 
three  masked  men  step  from  behind  a  heavy 
clump  of  mesquite,  where,  it  seems,  their  horses 
stood  well  concealed.  He  heard  the  usual  com 
mand  to  halt,  the  click  of  a  Winchester  rifle, 
and  of  course  he  pulled  up. 

' '  Heave  out  that  box/  came  gruffly  from  one 
of  the  robbers. 

' '  All  right,  pard/  said  Cuth,  as  he  tossed  the 
light  box  to  the  ground. 

' '  Be  careful,  Cuth  Raymond ;  don't  try  tricks 
on  us,'  said  one  of  them,  as  he  hefted  the  box. 
'This  is  way-stuff;  where  is  your  Tucson  box?' 
'  That's  the  only  box  in  the  boot ;  if  you 
don't  believe  me,  get  up  and  see  for  yourself/ 
exclaimed  Raymond. 

"  They  took  his  word,  and  after  consulting  a 
minute  ordered  him  to  throw  down  the  mail- 
pouch,  which  he  did. 

Now,  who  have  you  inside  ?'  inquired  the 
leader. 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY  35 

" '  Several,  including  a  lady,'  replied  Cuth. 

" '  Well,  hold  your  horses  steady  if  you  don't 
want  a  cat-hole  through  your  carcass.  And  you, 
Bill,'  to  one  of  the  gang,  '  open  the  door  and 
tumble  the  insiders  out ;  we'll  go  through  them.' 

"  The  door  was  opened,  and  '  Git  out,  all  but 
the  lady'  indicated  what  was  wanted. 

"  In  the  mean  while,  we  understand  from 
General  Andrews,  one  of  the  strangers,  Far- 
rington  had  told  them  that  it  would  be  simply 
folly  to  resist,  and  advised  them  to  obey.  The 
general  had  no  idea  who  Farrington  was  nor 
what  his  intentions  were.  The  three  gentlemen 
passengers,  who,  by  the  bye,  were  General  T.  H. 
Andrews,  of  St.  Louis,  a  large  stockholder  in 
the  Belle  Isle  Mine  of  the  Turquoise  district, 
Colonel  Mark  Grafton,  a  San  Francisco  lawyer, 
and  Rudolph  Lyons,  a  travelling  man  from  Chi 
cago,  descended  first  and  were  ordered  to  throw 
up  their  hands,  which  they  did.  Colgate  wore 
a  large  loose  duster,  which  covered  his  pistols, 
two  of  which  he  had  handy.  As  he  stepped  out 
he  purposely  stumbled  and  fell  forward. 

"  '  Git  up,  you  lubberly  cuss ;  are  you  drunk  ?' 
yelled  one  of  the  robbers,  covering  him  with  his 
pistol. 


"The  incident  made  a  diversion,  as  was  in 
tended.  At  that  moment  Farrington,  who  had 
kept  out  of  view  and  had  slightly  opened  the 
door  of  the  opposite  side  of  the  stage,  slipped 
out  and  quicker  than  we  can  write  the  words 
sprang  noiselessly  around  the  coach  with  a  re 
volver  in  each  hand.  But  the  leader  of  the  band 
saw  and  recognized  him.  '  Kid  Farrington,  by 
God !'  he  exclaimed,  and  tried  to  throw  his  gun 
down  on  him,  but  he  was  too  late,  for  a  bullet 
from  one  of  Lloyd's  pistols  pierced  his  wrist  and 
disabled  his  arm  so  that  he  shot  wild. 

"At  that  instant  Colgate  rose,  having  drawn 
his  pistols  in  the  confusion.  'Throw  up  your 
hands!'  he  commanded,  as  he  got  the  drop  on 
one  of  the  worthies.  It  seems  that  Farrington, 
expecting  three  robbers,  had  taken  one  of  the 
passengers,  Colonel  Grafton,  into  his  confidence. 
The  colonel  is  understood  to  have  seen  service 
during  the  Rebellion,  and  his  experience  and 
coolness  availed  him  now.  As  Farrington  fired 
and  as  Colgate  rose  from  his  prostrate  position 
the  colonel  adroitly  drew  and  covered  the  third 
man.  With  that  the  capture  of  the  two,  other 
than  the  leader,  was  completed. 

"  The  chief,  though  wounded,  sprang  towards 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 


37 


the  mesquite  bush  and  paid  no  heed  to  Farring- 
ton,  who  ordered  him  to  halt,  at  the  peril  of 
his  life.  Lloyd,  however,  would  not  fire ;  he  never 
takes  life  if  he  can  help  it.  Colonel  Grafton  says 
that  Farrington  remarked  that  with  that  wound 
the  man  would  not  get  out  of  the  territory.  In  a 
moment  he  was  in  his  saddle  and  off.  The  two 
prisoners  were  handcuffed  and  brought  in ;  they 
are  now  in  the  county  jail.  They  are  entirely  un 
known  to  the  sheriff  and  refuse  to  give  their 
names;  they  are  good  for  ten  years  at  Yuma. 
The  leader  of  the  band  is  known  to  be  'Claw' 
Clanton,  a  desperate  hand  who  broke  out  of  Albu 
querque  jail  some  two  months  ago.  The  three 
men  wore  masks,  as  already  mentioned,  but  as 
the  leader  was  mounting  his  horse  a  limb  of  the 
mesquite  brush  caught  the  black  perforated  rag 
over  his  face  and  tore  it  off.  All  the  passengers, 
as  well  as  Farrington  and  Colgate,  distinctly 
saw  the  blood-red  birth-scar  on  Clanton's  face, 
which  gives  him  the  name  by  which  he  is  called. 
The  fellow's  true  name  is  Rolla  Clanton.  He 
is  widely  known  and  is  said  to  have  been  well 
connected  in  Texas  or  Arkansas. 

"A  few  more  captures  of  this  kind  will  make 
the  roads  of  Arizona  as  safe  as  those  of  Ohio." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    NIGHT    RIDE 

WHEN  I  remarked  to  Farrington  that  I  ex 
pected  the  pleasure  of  his  company  on  the  ride 
down  to  Benson,  I  observed  a  shadow  of  anxiety 
flit  across  his  face. 

r  "  Is  it  necessary  that  you  should  go  down  to 
night?"  he  inquired.  "Pardon  my  officious- 
ness,  but  I  find  that  all  of  the  seats  in  the  coach 
are  taken  by  members  of  a  theatrical  company, 
and  there  are  reasons  why  it  may  be  imprudent 
for  any  one  to  ride  with  the  driver  on  this 
trip."  ' 

Now,  I  knew  perfectly  well  to  what  he  re 
ferred,  but  I  was  a  little  piqued  and  chose  not 
to  seem  to  understand.  I  had  heard  that  it  was 
whispered  around  town  that  Rolla  Clanton,  who 
was  still  at  large,  was  on  the  road,  and  that  he 
and  his  party  had  sworn  to  kill  Farrington  be 
fore  ever  "  holding  up"  another  stage  or  robbing 
another  "tenderfoot."  It  was  known,  some 
how,  that  Farrington  was  going  to  Tucson  that 
night. 

38 


THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 


39 


I  had  come  to  admire  Farrington  so  much  that 
these  threats  against  his  life  aroused  my  indig 
nation.  I  say  I  was  a  little  piqued.  I  felt  that 
he  ought  not  to  suppose  that  I  would  refuse  to 
ride  with  him  because  there  might  be  danger. 
I  merely  said  that  my  engagement  in  the  land- 
office  in  Tucson  the  next  day  made  it  impera 
tively  necessary  that  I  should  go  by  the  stage 
that  night.  I  think  now  that  he  understood 
me;  at  any  rate,  he  made  no  further  objections. 

We  sat  without  talking  for  some  time.  Ah 
Ting,  the  colonel's  boy,  brought  us  iced  drinks; 
silently  we  enjoyed  the  cool  breeze  and  the  beau 
ties  of  the  night.  The  full  moon  had  risen  high 
enough  to  light  with  unexampled  splendor  so 
much  of  the  world  as  lay  before  us.  Across 
the  desolate  mesa  to  the  north,  twelve  miles., 
away,  the  rugged  Dragoon  Range  stood  out  so 
clear  and  distinct  that  the  jagged  rocks  and  dark 
chasms  did  not  seem  a  mile  distant.  The  light 
was  indeed  so  bright  and  the  atmosphere  so 
transparent  that  it  was  quite  easy  to  read  fine 
print. 

"  We  will  have  a  dark  ride  to-night,  part  of 
our  way,"  remarked  Farrington. 

I  looked  up  quickly.     I  was  not  surprised,  but 


40  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

annoyed,  and  probably  did  not  conceal  the  fact. 
I  thought  he  spoke  metaphorically,  having  ref 
erence  to  some  anticipated  trouble,  and  still 
wished  to  dissuade  me  from  going  down.  The 
colonel  laughed  without  knowing  why.  Incon 
gruous  expressions  often  have  that  effect.  Far- 
rington  smiled. 

"  Where  is  your  almanac  ?"  he  asked.  "  At 
midnight  the  moon  will  be  totally  eclipsed." 

"So  it  will,"  I  exclaimed.  "I  had  entirely 
forgotten  the  date,  though  I  had  looked  forward 
to  seeing  the  eclipse  in  this  splendid  unclouded 
sky.  That  settles  the  question  of  sleep  for  me. 
I  had  intended  to  lie  down  until  stage-time,  but 
I  now  banish  Morpheus." 

At  that  moment  Farrington  caught  sight  of 
some  one  who  had  come  down  the  street  to  the 
gate,  apparently  looking  for  him.  Excusing 
himself  with  the  remark  that  he  would  see  me 
on  the  stage,  he  joined  the  young  man,  whose 
frank,  handsome  face  I  caught  sight  of  and 
whom  I  recognized  as  the  local  agent  of  Wells, 
Fargo  &  Co.  They  walked  up  the  street  arm 
in  arm  engaged  in  earnest  conversation. 

At  twelve  o'clock  I  was  at  the  stage-office 
on  Allen  Street,  and  without  delay  I  took  my 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY  41 

seat  above  the  driver.  The  stage  was  a  hand 
some,  strongly  built  Concord  coach  swung  on 
massive  leathern  springs,  seating  twelve  to  six 
teen  persons  inside  and  three  or  four  with  the 
driver, — one  on  his  left  and  two  or  three  above 
and  behind  him.  I  found  that  I  had  the  upper 
seat  myself.  Six  handsome  prancing  bays  and 
Cuth  Raymond  at  the  whip.  The  company  of 
travelling  players  and  three  or  four  other  pas 
sengers  were  inside.  Raymond  sang  out,  "All 
set!"  Farrington  had  not  taken  his  place.  I 
saw  him  a  short  distance  away  talking  with  his 
young  friend,  who  had  on  a  close-fitting  ulster 
and  a  gun  in  his  hand  similar  to  Farrington's. 
I  caught  the  words :  "  I  absolutely  forbid  it." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  younger  man,  "  I  have 

never  disobeyed  you,  but  for  God's  sake " 

I  could  not  catch  the  rest.  "All  set!"  cried 
Raymond  again,  and  Farrington  sprang  to  the 
seat  on  the  left  of  the  driver.  He  wore  no  over 
coat,  though  a  heavy  ulster  lay  at  hand.  The 
night  was  already  chilly  and  I  was  comfortably 
wrapped  in  mine.  With  a  merry  crack  of  the 
whip  the  team  moved  off  at  a  rattling  trot. 

Turning  around  to  me,  Farrington  said,  as 
if  to  apologize  for  having  delayed  the  start, — 


42  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

"My  young  friend  insisted  on  going  down 
with  us.  He  is  subject  to  my  orders.  I  re 
fused." 

"  Pardon  me,"  I  said,  "  and  do  not  answer  my 
question  if  it  is  improper:  Why  do  you  go 
down?  I  understand  that  you  have  regular 
messengers  under  you  to  do  this  unpleasant 
work." 

"  I  go  down,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  so  that  I 
can  come  up.  My  duty  requires  me  to  accom 
pany  the  stage  from  Benson  to  Tombstone  to 
morrow.  I  assure  you  that  if  I  could  do  so 
without  making  this  trip  I  would,  but  I  know 
of  no  way  to  accomplish  that  feat.  By  the  bye, 
Raymond,"  said  he,  changing  the  subject,  "  what 
did  Sandy  Bob  say  when  you  told  him  to  have 
the  lamps  lit?" 

"  He  laughed  at  me,"  replied  the  driver,  "  and 
'lowed  that  the  light  would  make  the  road  dark 
in  such  moonshine  as  we  would  have;  but  he 
laughed  out  of  the  other  side  of  his  mouth  when 
I  told  him  that  you  said  that  the  moon  was  goin' 
out  calling  for  a  couple  of  hours  and  would 
want  to  be  excused.  So  he  had  the  lamps  lit; 
they  are  doing  good  service  right  now,"  he  ex 
claimed,  as  he  swung  the  wheel  horses  to  avoid 


THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 


43 


an  ugly  granite  boulder  which  the  lamps  dis 
closed  in  the  darkness. 

The  moon  was  now  in  total  eclipse.  Bereft 
entirely  of  its  reflected  light  it  hung  high  in  the 
heavens,  still  seen  by  a  refracted  light,  but  only 
as  a  dull  brownish-red  disk. 

I  had  kept  the  promise  made  to  myself,  and 
sat  up  to  w.atch  the  phenomenon.  Right  well 
was  I  repaid.  About  an  hour  and  a  half  before 
midnight  the  shadow  of  the  earth  touched  and 
gradually  crept  over  the  moon's  face.  The  effect 
was  weird,  as  such  manifestations  of  the  phenom 
ena  of  nature  ever  are,  but  in  that  transparent 
atmosphere  it  heightened  and  exalted  the  glory 
of  the  heavens.  The  familiar  constellations 
shone  with  unexampled  brightness,  but  thou 
sands  of  strange  stars  came  into  view,  while  the 
Milky-Way  glistened  and  scintillated  with  a 
phosphorescent  light. 

During  all  that  glorious  night  there  was  not  a 
speck  of  cloud  nor  the  least  haze  to  be  seen. 
The  atmosphere  was  as  transparent  as  crystal. 
From  the  vantage  of  my  seat  on  the  coach,  as 
I  gazed  around  in  every  direction,  there  appeared 
to  be  no  horizon.  The  eye  seemed  to  reach  the 
limit  of  the  earth's  surface;  to  look  out  into 


44  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

illimitable  space.  Above  and  beyond  it  all  there 
stretched  away  an  unobstructed  and  immeasura 
ble  cerulean  expanse. 

Raymond  and  the  horses  were  now  picking 
their  way  and  the  lamps  were  indeed  needed. 
We  had  reached  a  curious  upheaval  of  granite 
some  three  miles  on  the  way,  where  reft  boul 
ders  and  obelisks  more  or  less  symmetrical  stood 
upright;  in  a  dark  night  they  looked  like  vast 
gravestones. 

At  this  point  there  were  two  roads;  the  one 
which  we  were  following  winding  in  a  sinuous 
way  through  the  bed  of  rocks,  the  other  making 
a  detour  of  a  half-furlong  or  so  and  passing 
by  a  well,  near  which  stood  two  gnarled  and 
stunted  oaks  whose  ugly  lines  we  could  dimly 
see  against  the  sky. 

"  Hello,  driver!"  the  voice  came  from  one  of 
the  inside  passengers,  who  had  stuck  his  head 
out  of  an  open  window ;  "  whose  cemetery  is 
this?" 

"  I  don't  see  no  name  over  the  gate,"  replied 
Raymond,  "but  it  looks  like  the  devil's  grave 
yard,  and  if  nobody  don't  object,  I'll  so  name 
it." 

"Good!"  shouted  the  other;  "we'll  christen 


THE   SEQUEL  ±Q^&  TRAGEDY  45 

it  now."  We  heard  the  pop  of  a  cork  and  a 
merry  peal  of  laughter  from  all  the  party  inside. 

Then  some  one  began  in  a  funereal  tone, 
suggested  doubtless  by  the  surroundings,  "Alas, 
poor  Yorick!  I  knew  him,  Horatio;  a  fellow 

of  infinite  jest;  of  most  excellent  fancy " 

but  he  was  immediately  requested  to  "cheese 
it"  by  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  troupe,  who  be 
gan  to  sing  "  Mollie  Darling,"  then  in  the  height 
of  its  terrible  rage.  She  was  soon  interrupted 
by  the  jolly  laugh  of  the  whole  party  at  some 
sally  which  we  did  not  catch. 

A  moment  before,  over  on  the  other  road, 
we  who  were  on  top  had  heard  the  steady  and 
regular  clatter  of  a  galloping  horse.  Farring- 
ton  and  I  were  intently  peering  into  the  gloom, 
and  just  at  the  well,  where  the  two  old  trees 
stood,  we  were  able  to  make  out  the  dim  out 
line  of  a  man  on  horseback  riding  towards  Ben 
son.  Suddenly  we  faintly  heard  the  single 
word,  "  Halt !"  a  moment  later  we  saw  one,  two, 
three  flashes  and  heard  as  many  sharp  reports, 
two  of  which  came  from  the  well  and  one  from 
the  mounted  man,  who  rode  on;  and  we  just 
caught  the  sound  of  a  merry,  defiant  laugh. 
That  sound  startled  Farrington  as  the  shooting 


46  THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

had  not.     I  heard  him  exclaim  in  a  low  voice, 
"  My  God !  what  can  this  mean  ?" 

Our  interesting  inside  passengers  had  sud 
denly  become  very  quiet.  All  that  we  could  now 
hear  from  them  was  a  low  general  conversation, 
which  came  up  to  us  in  an  unworded  tone  of 
anxious  fear. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A   CLOSE   SHOT 

WE  were  soon  out  upon  the  broad  mesa,  spin 
ning  along.  A  gentle  night  breeze  in  our  faces 
carried  the  dense  cloud  of  dust  behind  us  and  we 
had  an  unobstructed  view.  At  that  hour  no 
sound  could  be  heard  except  the  occasional  sharp 
bark  of  a  coyote  and  the  far-away  rumbling  of 
the  stamp-mills  at  Contention.  There  was  not 
a  tree  nor  shrub  in  sight  large  enough  to  hide 
a  man. 

Just  as  we  left  the  granite  bed  a  bright  cres 
cent  of  light  appeared  on  the  rim  of  the  darkened 
disk  of  the  moon.  It  steadily  and  rapidly  grew. 
Soon  the  shadow  of  the  earth  fled;  the  whole 
face  of  the  desolate  but  picturesque  landscape 
became  bathed  in  a  flood  of  silver  light.  The 
strange  stars  paled,  but  the  familiar  constella 
tions  shone  with  unabated  brightness.  Just  then 
appeared  over  the  eastern  horizon,  where  it  had 
been  shut  from  view  by  one  of  the  abrupt  ranges 
of  mountains  around  the  line  of  which  we  had 
swung,  a  literally  new  astronomical  splendor, — 

47 


48  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

a  comet  which  for  months  thereafter  attracted 
the  curious  gaze  of  the  world.  It  is  known  to 
astronomers  as  the  "Third  Comet  of  1881," 
and  there  is  no  record  of  its  having  been  dis 
covered  before  June  14,  when  it  appears  to  have 
been  observed  in  Australia  and  the  United 
States.  Yet,  on  that  night  of  the  I  ith,  or  rather 
the  morning  of  the  I2th  of  June,  we  saw  it  in 
the  heavens,  its  nucleus  shining  like  a  vast  elec 
tric  light,  its  narrow  fan-tail  stretching  through 
several  degrees.  It  was  an  uncanny  sight,  thus 
coming  unheralded.  I  confess  that  I  felt  a  cer 
tain  superstitious  dread  and  anxiety. 

The  high  table-land — mesa — over  which  we 
were  passing  at  a  lively  gait  was  cut  at  short  in 
tervals  by  deep,  dry  gulches, — aroyas, — and  in 
passing  down  and  up  the  grades  in  crossing  them 
Farrington  kept  so  keen  a  lookout  that  I  felt 
certain  he  expected  an  attack.  I  was  getting 
nervous,  but  his  calm  bearing  shamed  and  at  the 
same  time  assured  me.  Nothing  was  said  of 
what  was  doubtless  uppermost  in  both  our 
minds;  we  talked  of  the  unexampled  beauties 
of  the  night  and  of  the  strange  heavenly  visitor 
far  there  in  the  east. 

At  fifteen  minutes  past  two  we  were  due  at 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 


49 


Contention.  ,We  could  now  distinctly  hear  the 
never-ceasing  drop,  drop,  drop,  drop,  of  the 
sixty  stamps  of  the  Contention  and  Head  Centre 
mills.  The  mesa  ran  to  a  precipitous  bluff, 
down  which  the  quartz  road  wound.  We 
reached  the  brow  of  the  cliff;  the  little  hamlet 
lay  below,  shrouded  in  the  shadow  of  the  smoke 
from  the  tall  stacks  of  the  mills.  Far  away 
to  the  south  the  narrow  valley  of  the  San  Pedro 
stretched  and  the  stream  glistened  like  a  silver 
thread.  Facing  us,  the  white,  precipitous, 
jagged  and  barren  peaks  of  the  Whetstone 
Range,  half  a  score  of  miles  away,  rose  in  the 
illuminated  night  distinct  and  clear. 

Contention,  eight  miles  from  Tombstone,  was 
at  that  time  the  nearest  point  at  which  water 
could  be  obtained  for  milling  operations.  All 
of  the  ore  from  the  mines  at  Tombstone  was 
hauled  in  great  quartz  wagons  drawn  by  from 
sixteen  to  twenty-four  mules  to  these  mills  where 
the  reduction  took  place. 

In  ten  minutes  we  had  descended  the  winding 
road,  crossed  the  bridge  over  the  narrow  river, 
driven  down  the  single,  straggling  street,  and 
had  drawn  up  at  the  stage-office,  a  one-story 
frame  building  which  was  of  the  character  of  all 
4 


50  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

the  houses  in  the  place.  Opposite  stood  the 
corral,  surrounded  by  a  high  fence,  which  on 
one  side,  a  little  beyond  us,  ran  back  from  the 
street  and  served  as  the  apex  of  the  slanting 
top  of  a  long  shed. 

I  was  about  to  climb  down  to  stretch  my 
limbs;  the  driver  had  already  jumped  off,  and 
the  corral-men  had  instantly  begun  to  unhitch 
the  horses,  for  we  were  to  take  a  new  team. 
Farrington,  too,  had  risen  to  get  down.  He  held 
his  short  gun  in  his  left  hand.  He  had  thrown 
off  his  overcoat,  which  he  had  drawn  over  his 
shoulders.  As  he  stood  there  in  the  bright  light 
of  the  great  white  orb,  with  the  pose  of  an 
Apollo,  I  could  not  but  admire  his  manly  beauty. 
The  inside  passengers  were  also  getting  out  for 
a  rest.  They  seemed  to  have  recovered  their 
spirits  and  were  laughing  and  bantering  each 
other  cheerfully.  There  was  therefore  consider 
able  confusion  around  the  coach  and  in  front  of 
the  office.  Suddenly  everybody  was  startled  by 
hearing  some  one  exclaim, — 

"  Coward  and  assassin !" 

The  words  rang  out  in  a  clear  musical  tone 
above  the  confused  noises  and  sent  a  thrill 
through  me;  they  were  instantly  followed  by 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY  rj 

two  sharp  reports  from  opposite  sides  of  the 
street.  A  whistling  rifle-shot  passed  between 
Farrington's  head  and  mine  and  struck  the  tin 
roof  of  the  stage-office  with  a  metallic  thud. 
The  other  shot,  apparently  from  a  revolver,  came 
from  the  open  window  of  Wells,  Fargo  &  Co.'s 
building,  which  stood  ahead  of  the  stage-office 
opposite  the  leaders  of  the  team  and  just  across 
from  the  wall  and  covered  shed  of  the  corral. 
Evidently  this  pistol-shot  had  diverted  the  aim 
of  the  assassin  and  saved  Farrington's  life. 
Then,  in  the  midst  of  the  instant  wild  confusion 
and  above  the  noise,  was  heard  a  fierce  volley 
of  vulgar  oaths  and  the  rapid  retreat  of  a  horse 
man  around  the  corral  out  of  sight.  Farrington 
had  thrown  his  gun  to  his  shoulder,  but  took 
it  down  again  with  a  bitter  laugh. 

"  My  young  friend  called  the  scoundrel  by  his 
proper  name,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  I  must  see  what 
else  he  knows  about  him." 

He  sprang  lightly  to  the  ground  and  met  the 
youth  whom  I  had  seen  three  times  since  sun 
down.  They  grasped  hands  warmly  and  then 
withdrew  into  the  express-office. 

When  the  shots  were  fired  I  turned  quickly 
to  see  if  I  could  catch  sight  of  the  villain.  He 


52  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

was  then  not  two  hundred  feet  away;  and  as 
he  dashed  off,  though  he  skirted  the  corral  and 
tried  to  keep  under  the  fence,  I  could  see  him 
quite  distinctly;  in  the  brilliant  light  I  even 
caught  sight  of  his  face.  It  was  that  of  the 
chief  robber  whom  I  had  encountered  on  my  first 
trip  into  Tombstone.  I  recognized  him  by  the 
red  mark  on  his  sinister  face.  However,  it  was 
only  for  an  instant.  In  a  moment  he  had 
crossed  the  stream  and  was  riding  up  the  quartz 
road  which  he  had  descended.  He  pushed  his 
horse  to  the  utmost.  In  the  excitement  around 
the  stage-office  there  was  some  talk  of  pursuit, 
but  the  proposition  was  soon  abandoned. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   ROMANCE   OF   A   TRAGEDY 

TWENTY  minutes  later, — double  the  usual  de 
lay, — with  six  fresh  horses,  we  were  on  our  way 
again.  Farrington  took  the  upper  seat  with 
me  and  seemed  communicative.  He  told  me 
briefly  the  particulars  of  his  young  friend's  ad 
venture,  and  his  most  opportune  presence  and 
interference  at  Contention. 

Rolla  Clanton's  threats  had  been  common  talk, 
yet  he  himself  had  not  been  seen  in  Tombstone 
since  the  attempted  robbery  of  the  stage,  where 
he  had  been  wounded.  Members  of  his  gang 
were  in  town,  however,  and  as  they  were  drink 
ing,  they  boasted  loudly.  When  the  stage  pulled 
out,  during  the  deepest  shadow  of  the  eclipse, 
three  of  them  were  seen  by  Farrington's-  friend 
closely  watching  the  start.  He  approached  them 
noiselessly  as  they  stood  around  the  corner,  and 
after  a  while  heard  one  of  them  say  in  a  low 
tone, — 

"Well,  his  goose  is  cooked:  Clanton  will  be 

at  Contention,  and  then  this  d d  eclipse  will 

53 


54  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

be  over;  it  will  be  light  enough,  and  Roll — his 
arm  is  nearly  well — never  missed  a  shot." 

Slipping  away  without  being  seen,  the  young 
fellow  found  the  telegraph  operator  and  tried  to 
get  Contention,  but  failed,  as  the  office  there  was 
closed.  He  then  went  to  the  stable,  obtained  his 
horse,  and  rode  down,  as  we  have  seen.  He 
was  unable  to  account  for  the  episode  at  the  well 
near  the  granite  bed,  though  he  had  a  bullet-hole 
through  his  coat  to  show  for  it.  However,  dur 
ing  the  trials  that  followed  it  came  out  that  the 
men  who  fired  upon  him  were  two  of  Clanton's 
party  who  had  gone  down  to  meet  the  latter 
and  had  stopped  to  water  their  animals.  See 
ing  a  horseman  riding  so  fast,  they  divined  that 
it  was  some  one  intending  to  interfere  with  the 
plans  of  their  chief,  and  they  attempted  to  inter 
cept  him. 

Arriving  at  Contention,  he  discovered  that 
Clanton  had  not  been  seen,  and  so  watched  from 
the  window  of  the  express-office  for  him.  He 
was  rewarded  by  seeing  the  outlaw  ride  stealth 
ily  in  from  Benson  way,  just  as  the  stage  ar 
rived,  and  ensconce  himself  behind  the  high  wall 
of  the  corral.  The  rest  we  know.  Farrington 
further  told  me  that  he  and  his  friend  got  the 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 


55 


wires  to  Tombstone  and  sent  a  report  to  the 
sheriff.  He  predicted  that  that  officer  would 
be  on  the  road  within  an  hour  and  would  cap 
ture  Clanton  before  morning.  I  may  say  here 
that  it  so  came  out.  The  cowardly  assassin  was 
taken  with  a  fresh  bullet  wound  in  his  right 
shoulder,  convicted,  and  sentenced  to  fourteen 
years'  imprisonment  at  hard  labor.  The  two 
members  of  his  gang  captured  by  Farrington 
and  Colgate  were  also  convicted,  the  others  es 
caped. 

In  speaking  of  his  young  friend  Lloyd  Far- 
rington's  voice  vibrated  with  the  tenderest  emo 
tion. 

"You  seem  to  be  very  fond  of  him,"  I  re 
marked. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  gently;  "he  is  dearer 
to  me  than  I  can  tell."  He  remained  silent  for 
a  time,  and  then  said,  "  Would  you  like  to  hear 
the  story  of  my  life  ?  I  am  inclined  to-night  to 
tell  it  to  you.  We  are,  comparatively,  stran 
gers,  yet  I  feel  as  if  I  had  known  you  for  a  long 
time." 

I  said  that  he  was  too  young  to  talk  of  the 
story  of  his  life;  that  his  life  was  really  before 
him. 


56  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

"Ah,  no,"  he  replied  in  a  sad  tone,  "  my  life 
is  over." 

Then  I  tried  to  say  that  I  had  learned  to  ad 
mire  and  esteem  him ;  I  was  awkward,  but  I  am 
sure  that  he  knew  that  I  was  sincere. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  a  little  romantic  to-night,"  he 
said,  "but  is  it  surprising?"  and  he  looked  at 
the  splendors  in  the  heavens. 

It  was  then  about  half-past  three  o'clock. 
The  moon  had  descended  in  the  west  and  was 
within  an  hour  of  setting.  Its  light  had  paled 
a  little,  leaving  the  constellations  in  their  glory. 
The  comet  had  swept  over  a  small  arc  and  was 
just  disappearing  in  the  east.  Three  brilliant, 
resplendent  planets — Saturn,  Jupiter,  and  Venus 
— had  arisen  as  morning  stars,  and  were  grouped 
within  a  few  degrees  of  each  other, — an  unusual 
and  sublimely  beautiful  sight.  Saturn  and  Jupi 
ter,  scintillating  with  joyous  rapture  and  burn 
ing  with  effusive  devotion  and  admiration,  were 
attendant  upon  Venus,  Mistress  of  Emotion  and 
Queen  of  Love.  The  other  planets  were  bril 
liantly  beautiful;  Venus  was  glorious  beyond 
expression.  Her  light  literally  burned  in  the 
sky, — a  pure,  colorless,  soul-penetrating  flame. 
The  rest  of  the  heavens  paled;  the  Milky- Way 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  ^ 

was  but  a  suggestion  of  light;  the  moon  was 
forgotten, — only  Venus  and  her  attendants 
shone  in  the  east. 

After  gazing  fixedly  for  a  while  at  this  glori 
ous  sight,  Farrington  proceeded  in  a  low  voice, — 

"  I  was  born  in  New  York ;  when  I  was  twelve 
years  of  age  my  father,  who  was  a  man  of  great 
learning  and  an  experienced  educator,  removed 
to  California,  to  accept  a  professorship  in  the 
University  at  Berkeley.  By  his  assistance,  at 
sixteen  I  was  able  to  enter  the  University.  'A. 
year  later  he  died,  leaving  a  sufficient  amount 
to  support  my  mother  and  myself  until  I  should 
be  able  to  provide.  At  nineteen  I  graduated. 
It  was  my  mother's  desire,  as  it  had  been  my 
father's  ambition,  that  I  should  study  law.  I 
accordingly  continued  as  a  student  in  the  Hast 
ings  College  of  Law,  one  of  the  departments  of 
the  University,  and  also  entered  the  office  of  my 
uncle,  Judge  Tremwick,  in  San  Francisco.  He 
is  my  mother's  brother,  and  lived  near  us  in 
Berkeley. 

"  Ah !  those  were  happy  days,  and  I  was  con 
tented,  although  I  was  no  milksop.  My  mother 
and  I  were  companions,  but  I  found  opportunity 
to  follow  my  natural  bent  for  out-door  sport. 


5g  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

I  was  fond  of  hunting  and  shooting,  and  became 
very  proficient  in  the  use  of  arms.  I  also  de 
lighted  in  boating  and  yachting.  So  our  lives 
ran  on  for  two  years,  and  I  was  progressing 
fairly.  Another  term  and  I  would  get  my  de 
gree,  which  would  entitle  me  to  come  to  the  bar. 

"Then  I  met  Ruth,  and  the  world  was  no 
longer  what  it  had  been. 

"She  was  three  years  younger  than  I,  but 
mature  and  already  a  beautiful  woman.  Her 
father  was  a  clergyman  who  had  occupied  a  pul 
pit  in  the  town  of  Melton  for  some  years,  but 
who  had  recently  been  called  to  Berkeley.  He 
was  a  most  refined,  cultivated  gentleman,  and  a 
scholar  of  rare  attainments.  In  the  prime  of 
life,  handsome  and  eloquent,  he  was  greatly  ad 
mired  and  beloved;  but  by  no  one  so  much  as 
by  Ruth.  He  was  her  hero.  Her  mother  was 
a  charming  woman,  and  the  three  were  constant 
companions.  There  was  a  younger  daughter 
who,  though  but  sixteen,  had  recently  married 
in  Melton.  They  did  not  often  speak  of  her. 
There  was  also  the  twin  brother  of  this  sister, 
a  frank  and  manly  lad,  attending  the  University, 
and  well  advanced  in  his  studies,  of  whom  all 
were  proud." 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY  59 

There  was  a  pause,  awkward  to  me  because  I 
felt  that  some  comment  on  his  narrative  might 
be  expected,  and  no  words  came  readily  to  my 
lips.  But  presently  I  saw  that  my  companion 
was  not  waiting  upon  me,  but  that  he  was  in 
deep  and  distant  meditation. 

"  Was  it  the  effect  of  some  evil  planetary  con 
junction  that  determined  my  fate?"  presently 
resumed  Farrington,  gazing  intently  for  a  mo 
ment  upon  Venus,  now  risen  higher  and  shining 
— no,  burning — with  still  greater  splendor.  "  I 
know  not,"  he  continued,  "  but  certain  it  is  that 
I  loved  her  at  once  with  my  whole  soul.  I  will 
not  attempt  to  describe  her.  It  is  beyond  my 
power.  Her  intellectual  gifts  and  moral  nature 
were  in  harmony  with  her  striking  beauty  and 
grace.  Both  her  father  and  mother,  as  well  as 
Ruth,  had  become  warmly  attached  to  my 
mother,  for  she  was  and  is  so  gentle,  so  pure, 
and  so  noble  that  she  is  worthy  the  affection  and 
admiration  of  angels. 

"  It  was  my  vacation,  and  I  was  able  to  be 
with  Ruth.  How  can  I  speak  of  those  days !  I 
need  not  do  so.  Your  own  heart  and  imagina 
tion  will  supply  the  picture  that  I  carry  in  my 
mind.  We  wandered  along  the  foot-hills  to- 


6o  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

gether.  We  read  aloud  to  each  other.  We 
played,  she  with  rare  skill  and  genius  on  the 
piano,  I  indifferently  on  the  flute.  Often  we 
stood  and  silently  watched  the  sun  set  over  the 
waters  of  the  Golden  Gate,  towards  which  our 
cottage  faced, — a  glorious  sight  of  which  we 
never  tired.  No  words  of  love  had  passed  be 
tween  us;  nor  was  it  necessary.  I  loved  her, 
and  she  knew  it.  She  loved  me,  and  I  knew 
it.  I  was  too  young  to  think  of  marriage, — 
time  enough  for  that.  So  the  sweet  midsummer 
days  passed  and  I  went  back  to  my  work  and 
studies  in  the  city.  Still,  I  was  able  to  see  much 
of  her.  She  was  always  waiting  for  me  when 
I  returned  home. 

"  Weeks  passed  thus  and  there  were  no  clouds. 
My  mother  was  very  happy.  Ruth  became  to 
her  the  daughter  whom  she  had  never  borne 
but  had  always  missed.  Ruth  worshipped  my 
mother  as  an  ideal  being.  They  talked  of  me, 
— planned  for  my  future.  Ruth's  brother  was 
to  be  my  junior  partner. 

"One  day  I  arranged,  as  much  for  Ruth's 
pleasure  as  for  my  own,  a  yachting  trip.  A 
holiday  came  and  I  invited  Ruth  and  her  father, 
mother,  and  brother  to  sail  with  me  to  Mare 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY  6l 

Island.  We  started  quite  early,  going  aboard 
at  Oakland  Pier,  and  expected  to  return  by  sun 
set. 

"  The  day  was  one  of  delight.  I  like  to  think 
of  it  up  to  the  hour  of  the  tragedy,  for  it  was  the 
last  happy  day  of  my  life.  How  beautiful,  how 
gentle  and  loving,  yet  how  vivacious  and  merry, 
she  was!  How  tender  and  devoted  to  her 
father,  mother,  and  brother! 

"Only  once  that  day,  or  indeed  at  any  time, 
did  I  speak  of  my  passion.  On  our  way  back 
Ruth  stood  alone  beside  me  at  the  helm.  She 
affected  to  help  me.  Our  hands  touched.  I 
was  thrilled.  She  looked  into  my  eyes  with 
infinite  tenderness,  and  I  said  in  a  low  tone, 
*  Ruth,  do  you  know  that  I  love  you  ?'  With 
a  soft  blush  she  answered,  '  Why,  of  course, 
dear;  it  was  riot  necessary  to  tell  me.' 

"At  that  moment  the  sailing-master  came  aft 
and  I  noticed  an  anxious  look  on  his  face. 
'  There  is  a  heavy  black  fog  coming  in,'  he  said, 
'  and  I  fear  that  the  wind  is  dying  out.' 

"  I  looked,  and  saw  a  dense  bank,  which  had 
swept  in  through  the  Golden  Gate,  rolling  up 
past  Alcatraz.  We  had  passed  San  Pablo  Bay. 
The  wind  was  with  us,  but  began  to  shift,  and 


62  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

we  had  to  tack  out  from  the  shore.  In  a  short 
time  we  were  enveloped  in  an  impenetrable  mist ; 
the  sun,  which  was  still  an  hour  high,  was  so 
obscured  that  it  became  almost  dark.  The  wind 
fell,  and  there  we  lay  unable  to  see  the  shore. 
Everybody  was  silent.  I  knew  that  we  were 
in  peril,  and  at  thought  of  Ruth  my  heart  beat 
until  I  could  hear  it.  The  fog  thickened  and 
the  sail  hung  wet  and  limp;  we  were  drifting 
with  the  tide,  which  was  running  out.  It  grew 
darker.  Suddenly  the  man  at  the  bow  gave  a 
sharp  cry. 

"  '  Steamer  ahoy !     Port  your  helm !' 
"  It  was  too  late.     In  a  moment  the  prow  of 
the  vessel  crashed  into  our  little  sloop,  cutting 
it  half  through  and  bearing  it  down  until  the 
deck  was  beneath  the  water. 

"It  was  soon  all  over.  There  were  two 
frightened  cries,  and  I  heard  a  solemn  voice 
say,  '  God  save  us  if  it  is  His  will.'  I  saw 
Ruth's  brother  spring  towards  his  mother,  and 
then  I  was  under  the  water.  It  was  only  for 
an  instant.  As  I  rose  I  saw  Ruth's  face  near 
me.  She  had  fainted  and  was  sinking.  I 
grasped  her  and  held  her  above  the  water.  The 
steamer  reversed  her  engines,  a  boat  was  lowered 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  63 

and  we  were  picked  up.  Ruth's  brother  was 
swimming1  around  distractedly.  They  dragged 
him  aboard.  We  three  alone  were  saved.  The 
steamer  succeeded  in  landing,  and  Ruth  was 
borne  to  my  mother's  house.  She  lay  all  the 
night  long  with  her  eyes  wide  open.  She  spoke 
not  a  word,  nor  did  she  shed  a  tear. 

"The  next  day  they  found  the  bodies  of  her 
father  and  mother  and  brought  them  home. 
When  she  heard  the  sorrowful  expressions  of 
the  people  in  the  street  she  arose,  despite  the 
efforts  of  my  mother  to  detain  her,  and  in  her 
bare  feet  and  white  night-robe  ran  out  and 
through  the  crowd  to  the  gate  through  which 
they  were  carrying  the  body  of  her  father.  She 
saw  him.  Throwing  her  arms  up,  she  burst  into 
a  wild,  vacant  laugh.  I  ran  to  her.  The  mo 
ment  she  perceived  me  her  face  showed  fear,  and 
she  made  a  motion  to  repulse  me,  exclaiming, — 

"  *  So,  Lloyd  Farrington,  you  have  at  length 
wrought  your  fiendish  work.  I  knew  that  you 
would.  I  saw  murder  written  on  your  face  the 
first  time  that  we  met.' 

"I  tried  to  approach  her,  but  they  led  me 
away.  I  remember  nothing  that  occurred  for 
days.  I  was  very  ill.  But  my  strong  constitu- 


64  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

tion  carried  me  through'.  When  I  recovered 
I  recalled  everything  with  vivid  clearness.  I 
asked  for  Ruth. 

"'For  her  sake,  my  son/  said  my  mother, 
'  you  must  not  see  her  now.  She  is  well,  ex 
cept  that  she  seems  afflicted  with  a  strange  de 
lusion  in  regard  to  yourself.  The  physician 
thinks  that  she  might  become  violent  if  she 
should  see  you.'  I  turned  my  face  to  the  wall 
and  found  relief  in  tears.  I  was  physically 
weak. 

"  The  rest  of  my  story  can  be  briefly  told. 

"I  soon  recovered  my  strength.  Ruth's  sis 
ter  had  come  down  from  Melton  to  attend  the 
funeral  of  her  parents,  and  she  remained.  Ruth 
loved  her  in  a  passive  way,  but  for  my  mother 
she  had  developed  an  absorbing,  passionate  affec 
tion,  scarcely  less,  however,  than  she  bore  for 
her  brother.  She  seemed  to  be  perfectly  sane 
except  in  regard  to  me.  With  all  gentleness 
and  tenderness  she  would  condole  with  my 
mother  for  the  loss  of  her  son.  She  became 
partially  reconciled  to  her  own  terrible  affliction, 
but  her  friend's  son  had  become  a  murderer, — 
a  soulless,  irreclaimable  criminal. 

"Nevertheless,  I  determined  to  see  her,  and 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  65 

finally  my  mother  and  her  sister  consented.  I 
was  allowed  to  be  with  her  alone.  She  did  not 
become  violent,  but  treated  me  with  bitter  hatred 
and  scorn. 

" '  I  suppose  that  since  you  are  here,'  she  ex 
claimed,  '  the  law  cannot  reach  you ;  and  for  the 
sake  of  your  mother,  who  is  an  angel  of  good 
ness,  I  will  not  denounce  you.  Still,  you  are 
none  the  less  a  murderer.  However,  I  am  not 
surprised.  I  fully  understood  your  diabolical 
nature  from  the  first.' ''' 

Now  for  the  first  time  Farrington's  voice 
broke  from  the  steady  self-control  into  which  he 
had  forced  himself,  and 'I  heard  him  mutter  in 
a  half-sob, — 

"  I  wonder  now  how  I  lived  through  it." 

Then  he  went  on  calmly,  "  The  physician  ad 
vised  that  she  should  be  removed  to  the  asylum, 
and  her  sister  would  have  acquiesced;  but 
neither  my  mother,  her  brother,  nor  I  would 
hear  of  it.  So  it  was  arranged  that  she  and  her 
brother  should  live  with  my  mother,  and  I  de 
termined  to  go  away.  There  was  some  money 
which  came  to  Ruth  and  her  brother.  It  was 
placed  in  the  hands  of  my  uncle,  who  was  ap 
pointed  their  guardian. 
5 


66  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

"I  struggled  for  a  little  while  to  continue 
my  studies.  It  was  of  no  use.  Life  was  too 
desolate;  I  should  have  gone  mad.  I  felt  that 
self-preservation  demanded  that  I  should  be 
active.  I  abandoned  the  law  and  entered  the 
service  of  the  express  company,  obtaining  a 
confidential  position  at  once  through  the  influ 
ence  of  my  uncle. 

"  My  mother  is  well  and  strong.  She  has  de 
voted  her  life  to  Ruth;  first  for  my  sake  and, 
too,  because  she  loves  her.  I  see  my  mother 
as  often  as  I  can,  but  I  have  only  seen  Ruth  once 
since.  It  was  something  over  a  year  after  the 
tragedy.  We  met  under  strange  and  unnatural 
conditions,  at  least  as  far  as  she  was  concerned. 
Suffice  to  say  that  when  she  passed  from  my 
sight  I  lost  all  hope." 

He  paused,  and  I  was  about  to  speak  when  he 
continued, — 

"You  can  now  understand  why  I  love  the 
young  hero  who  saved  my  life  to-night.  He  is 
Ruth's  brother."  He  sat  musing  for  a  moment, 
and  then  exclaimed  disconnectedly,  "Yes,  the 
light  of  my  life  has  gone  out."  He  was  gazing 
in  an  abstracted  way  at  the  pure  white  planet. 

I  placed  my  hand  on  his  arm  and  said,  "  My 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY  67 

dear  Farrington,  you  have  a  brave  and  noble 
heart,  and  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  future 
has  in  store  for  you  brighter  and  happier  days. 
Look!"  and  as  I  pointed  he  turned  his  eyes 
towards  the  east.  The  dawn  was  breaking. 

We  had  reached  the  station,  a  simple  corral 
with  an  adobe  house  for  the  men,  where  fresh 
horses  were  in  harness  awaiting  us.  In  a  few 
minutes  we  were  off  again. 

A  silvery  haze  had  spread  over  the  eastern 
sky,  paling  the  planets.  Soon  this  changed  to 
a  rosier  hue.  Then  a  golden  light  arose,  fan- 
shaped,  at  times  shooting  up  like  the  Aurora. 
This  grew  steadily  and  rapidly  brighter.  We 
then  witnessed  a  sight  that  in  all  human  proba 
bility  I  shall  never  see  again. 

From  Contention  down  to  Benson,  sixteen 
miles,  the  road  followed  the  San  Pedro.  The 
little  river  runs  north.  The  valley,  which  was 
at  that  time  entirely  uninhabited,  was  several 
miles  in  width,  but  in  that  strangely  transparent 
atmosphere  it  seemed  but  a  mile  or  two  across. 
Along  the  eastern  side  stretched  a  range  of 
mountains  rising  abruptly,  perhaps  two  or  three 
thousand  feet,  having  a  comparatively  regular 
brow  with  sharp  pinnacles.  At  one  place  these 


68  THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

pinnacles,  rising  a  little  higher  than  usual,  took 
the  form  of  a  Gothic  castle.  On  the  other  side 
of  the  broad  valley  the  barren  and  precipitous 
Whetstone  Range  rose  to  about  the  same  height 
and  had  the  same  regularity.  The  brow  of  this 
range  was  serrated  in  a  peculiar  manner. 

As  we  gazed  in  wonder  and  admiration  we 
saw,  hanging  close  over  this  serrated  line,  the 
great  white  disk  of  the  moon  in  exact  juxta 
position  to  the  sun,  since  a  total  eclipse  had  just 
occurred.  As  the  day  god  rose  in  glorious 
splendor,  bathing  the  Gothic  castle  in  a  flood 
of  gold  and  crimson  light,  the  queen  of  night 
sank  behind  the  line  of  the  opposite  rugged  range 
in  a  sea  of  silver  haze.  The  effect  was  truly 
sublime. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    RIFLED    MAIL 

ABOUT  six  weeks  before  my  interview  with 
Lloyd  Farrington  in  San  Francisco,  I  was  sit 
ting  in  my  office  in  the  United  States  Court 
Building  in  that  city,  when  Major  Anderson, 
Chief  of  the  Post-Office  Inspectors,  entered. 

"I  came  in  to  consult  you,"  said  he,  "in  re 
gard  to  an  important  case  of  letter-rifling  that 
we  are  working  up.  We  do  not  usually  trouble 
your  office,  as  you  know,  until  we  are  ready  to 
make  the  arrest,  but  in  this  instance  we  have 
to  do  with  a  bold  and  cunning  criminal;  and 
as  our  evidence,  in  the  nature  of  things,  must 
be  circumstantial,  I  thought  that  you  ought  to 
be  advised  of  the  proceedings  in  advance.  Shall 
I  present  the  matter  to  you  or  to  one  of  your 
assistants  ?" 

"  Since  you  consider  it  so  important,  major," 
said  I,  "  I  will  hear  you  myself." 

"  The  facts,"  he  proceeded,  "  as  known  to  our 
office  are  these:  During  the  past  four  months 
eighteen  complaints  have  reached  us  of  the  rifling 

69 


70  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

of  registered  letters  mailed  at  different  points  in 
the  State.  In  every  instance  coin  has  been  ex 
tracted,  amounting  in  the  aggregate  to  a  con 
siderable  sum.  Of  course  there  may  be,  and 
probably  are,  many  other  cases  not  reported.  We 
are  thoroughly  satisfied  that  these  thefts  have 
all  been  committed  at  one  place  and  by  one 
man. 

"Under  the  post-office  regulations  all  regis 
tered  mail  matter  is  required  to  pass  through 
some  one  of  the  distributing  offices  which  are 
located  at  intervals  throughout  the  country,  ex 
cept  in  cases  where  a  '  brass  lock,'  as  a  through 
pouch  is  called,  is  sent  from  one  large  city  to 
another,  as  from  San  Francisco  to  New  York. 

"Our  investigations  show  that  each  of  the 
eighteen  rifled  letters  passed  through  Melton, 
and  that  Melton  is  the  only  office  through  which 
they  all  passed.  We  further  find  that  the  same 
method  of  extracting  the  money  was  adopted  in 
each  case.  I  will  show  you  how  it  is  done." 
He  took  two  envelopes  from  his  pocket,  one 
containing  a  twenty-dollar  piece,  to  illustrate. 
"A  registered  letter,  stamped,  addressed,  and  en 
dorsed  on  the  reverse  by  the  sender,  is  numbered 
and  then  enclosed  in  a  long  outer  envelope,  which 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY  7! 

is  securely  sealed.  It  is  quite  customary  in  this 
State  to  send  coin  by  mail.  Letters  containing 
five,  ten,  or  even  twenty  dollars  are  frequently 
received.  Now,  after  shaking  the  enclosed  let 
ter  down  to  one  end  of  the  large  covering  and 
enclosing  envelope,  thus,"  and  the  major  showed 
me,  "  our  thief  would  hold  the  two  together,  and 
by  giving  a  quick  jerk  the  piece  or  pieces  of 
money  would  be  driven  through  the  envelope 
of  the  letter  and  would  fall  into  the  covering 
envelope ;  then  by  a  little  manipulation  he  would 
work  the  coin  out  under  the  sealed  flap,  closing 
any  aperture  with  mucilage.  Thus  the  package 
has  been  rifled,  and  yet  outwardly  it  appears 
intact  and  is  sent  on  without  suspicion  being 
aroused. 

"  Finding  that  all  these  cases  centred  in  Mel 
ton,  and  having  discovered  this  uniformity  of 
method,  we  were  morally  certain  that  some  one 
in  the  post-office  at  that  place  was  systematically 
stealing  coin  from  registered  letters.  I  went 
to  Melton  and  personally  investigated.  I  was 
not  known  there,  the  office  having  been  exam 
ined  from  time  to  time  by  one  of  the  other  in 
spectors.  I  found  that  the  postmaster  at  Melton, 
Robert  Walton,  who  has  held  the  office  for  three 


72  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

years,  is  a  young  man  of  perhaps  thirty-five, 
who  stands  well  but  who  has  some  bad  habits. 
He  drinks  too  freely  and  neglects  the  office. 
He  is  a  local  politician  of  some  note  and  is  hail- 
fellow  with  all.  But  his  personal  and  social 
standing  is  high.  He  is  married  and  is  a  de 
voted  husband.  His  wife,  the  daughter  of  a 
prominent  clergyman  who  formerly  resided  at 
Melton,  is  honored  and  loved  by  all.  I  was  told 
that  Mrs.  Walton  was  very  ill  and  but  little  hope 
was  entertained  for  her  recovery. 

"  I  could  see  nothing  suspicious  about  him. 
But  he  has  a  brother-in-law,  Luke  Wardleigh,  a 
young  fellow  of  perhaps  twenty-three,  who  for 
four  months  has  been  acting  as  deputy  post 
master, — indeed,  he  has  been  managing  and 
almost  entirely  carrying  on  the  office.  He  is 
a  shrewd,  sharp  youngster,  very  retired  and  reti 
cent;  I  could  not  learn  much  about  him.  Al 
though  a  native  of  Melton  he  has  been  away  for 
six  or  seven  years  and  few  knew  him.  I  learned 
from  Wells  &  Fargo's  agent  that  he  had  been 
for  a  time  in  the  employ  of  that  company  in 
Arizona.  I  know  that  they  seldom  discharge  a 
worthy  man.  There  was  no  one  else  in  the 
office,  and  the  building  is  so  arranged  that  no- 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  73 

body  has  access  to  the  letters.  The  mail-carrier 
delivers  the  mail  either  to  Walton  or  to  Ward- 
leigh.  Thus  it  seems  to  me  almost  certain  that 
one  of  these  two  is  the  man  who  has  been  rifling 
letters.  In  my  own  mind  I  feel  confident  that  it 
is  young  Wardleigh." 

I  felt  inclined  to  criticise  the  major's  method. 
The  man  who  is  seeking  to  detect  crime  should 
never  at  first  proceed  upon  a  theory.  He  should 
seek  only  for  facts.  If  he  commences  by  sus 
pecting  some  one  he  will  in  all  probability  seek 
to  arrange  the  facts  so  as  to  justify  his  suspi 
cions.  The  safe  detective  discards  all  theories 
and  suspicions.  Having  learned  all  that  can  be 
ascertained,  he  can  then  by  adjusting  and  group 
ing  his  information  form  his  conclusions — his 
theory — as  to  the  perpetrator  of  the  crime. 
From  this  point  he  should  then  pursue  a  new 
course  of  investigation,  following  out  his  theory 
and  seeking  to  learn  every  new  fact  suggested 
by  the  theory,  not  for  the  purpose  of  establish 
ing  it,  but  to  test  it ;  for  the  true  detective  should 
be  as  ready  to  demonstrate  the  innocence  of  a 
suspected  person  as  to  determine  his  guilt. 
After  all,  however,  this  is  simply  applying  the 
true  scientific  method  to  the  art  of  the  detective. 


74  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

I  say  that  I  was  disposed  to  criticise  Major 
Anderson  for  attempting  to  theorize  before  he 
knew  the  facts,  but  I  said  nothing  and  he  con 
tinued, — 

"  We  now  intend  to  prepare  and  send  through 
the  post-office  at  Melton  three  or  four  decoy 
letters,  and  to  follow  them  up,  take  possession  of 
the  post-office,  and  thoroughly  investigate  it." 

Post-office  inspectors  have  extensive  powers. 
They  are  authorized  by  their  letters  of  appoint 
ment  to  enter  and  examine  any  post-office  at 
any  time,  and  take  possession  of  an  office  if 
deemed  advisable.  The  scope  of  their  duties, 
however,  is  confined  to  the  detection  of  depre 
dations  upon  the  mails  and  to  peculations  and 
defalcations  of  officers  and  employes  of  the  ser 
vice. 

"  I  thought  that  I  would  ask  you,"  continued 
the  major,  "to  personally  observe  the  prepara 
tion  of  the  test  letters,  as  they  are  technically 
termed.  We  have  a  small  workship  at  our 
office,  and  if  you  will  have  the  kindness  to  name 
a  time  I  will  show  you  the  way  it  is  done." 

I  named  an  hour  that  afternoon  and  he  with 
drew. 

I  began  to  feel  quite  an  interest  in  the  matter, 


75 

and  at  the  time  named  went  to  the  rooms  of  the 
inspectors. 

I  found  the  major,  together  with  Captain 
Lux  and  Mr.  Smithson,  two  inspectors  whom 
I  knew  well;  also  a  clerk,  Mr.  Clark.  Their 
workshop,  as  they  called  it,  was  quite  a  curious 
place.  They  had  cancelling  and  dating  stamps, 
ink-pads,  different  fonts  of  type,  and  varieties 
of  paper  and  envelopes.  They  could  counterfeit 
a  letter  to  appear  exactly  as  it  would  on  leaving 
any  post-office  in  their  division.  Four  letters 
were  prepared  with  post-marks  and  cancelled 
postage-stamps;  they  were  directed  to  fictitious 
persons  at  points  beyond  Melton.  In  each  of 
these  letters  was  placed  one  or  more  pieces  of 
coin  marked  for  identification.  These  marks 
were  carefully  noted  in  a  book  by  Mr.  Clark. 
An  impression  of  each  coin  was  also  taken,  show 
ing  the  marks.  It  was  arranged  that  Captain 
Lux  and  Mr.  Smithson  should  take  charge  of 
the  letters  and  the  next  day  proceed  up  the  coun 
try  by  different  routes.  The  letters  were  to  be 
given  to  mail  clerks  on  the  cars  at  different 
points,  who  were  to  be  carefully  instructed  to 
deliver  them  to  other  clerks  passing  through 
Melton  and  to  make  suitable  memoranda  of  what 


j?6  THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

they  should  do.  It  was  arranged  that  one  of 
the  letters  should  be  mailed  earlier  than  the  rest, 
so  that  it  would  reach  Melton  in  the  morning 
and  go  on  to  Raymond  in  the  afternoon.  The 
others  were  to  reach  Melton  in  the  evening  and 
lie  over  until  the  next  day.  Mr.  Smithson  was 
to  go  up  to  Raymond  and  claim  and  examine 
that  decoy  and  return  and  meet  Captain  Lux 
at  Melton  in  the  evening.  At  an  early  hour  the 
next  morning  they  were  to  take  possession  of  the 
post-office.  Of  course  Major  Anderson  had 
given  them  a  detailed  account  of  his  investi 
gations  and  had  communicated  his  suspicions. 

Three  days  later  Major  Anderson,  accom 
panied  by  Captain  Lux,  came  into  my  office  and 
informed  me  that  they  had  a  prisoner  in  the 
marshal's  office  against  whom  they  desired  to 
file  a  complaint. 

"It  was  as  I  suspected,"  said  the  major. 
"Captain  Lux  and  Mr.  Smithson  carried  out 
the  plan,  as  communicated  to  you,  exactly  as 
arranged;  and  as  a  result,  they  caught  Luke 
Wardleigh  in  flagrante  delicto,  as  you  lawyers 
say.  The  decoy  letters  were  all  traced  directly  to 
him;  he  had  actually  receipted  for  all  of  them. 
They  were  found  rifled  in  the  manner  I  described 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  77 

to  you.  He  was  arrested,  searched,  and  one  of 
the  marked  coins  was  found  in  his  pocket;  he 
had  time  to  get  rid  of  all  the  others." 

"  Yes,"  said  Captain  Lux,  "  and  a  more  brazen 
rascal  I  never  saw.  He  took  it  all  as  cool  as 
if  it  were  a  play.  His  brother-in-law,  the  post 
master,  who  was  present,  was  excited  almost 
to  frenzy;  but  my  young  man  showed  no  con 
cern,  and  except  that  he  affected  a  sad  look  of 
injured  innocence,  you  might  have  supposed  that 
he  felt  no  interest  in  the  proceedings.  I  took 
him  into  custody  in  virtue  of  my  authority  as 
a  special  deputy  marshal,  and  offered  him  the 
option  of  coming  to  the  city  with  me  without 
resistance  or  a  formal  arrest  before  some  local 
magistrate.  He  consented  to  come,  and  did  so, 
giving  us  no  trouble.  I  must  say  for  the  chap 
that  he  is  exceedingly  gentle  and  well  behaved. 
If  I  did  not  know  him  to  be  such  a  persistent 
and  cunning  thief  I  should  feel  sorry  for  him. 
Before  leaving  he  asked  permission  to  see  his 
sister,  and  of  course  we  took  him  to  Walton's 
house  and  gave  him  full  opportunity  to  see  her 
alone." 

I  prepared  an  affidavit  of  complaint  and  caused 
a  warrant  to  issue,  which  was  placed  in  the  hands 


78  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

of  the  marshal.  He  took  the  prisoner  into  for 
mal  custody  and  then  obtained  a  commitment 
and  conveyed  him  to  the  county  jail. 

The  papers  the  next  morning1  contained  a 
brief  account  of  the  arrest,  giving  Wardleigh's 
name  in  full  and  saying  that  the  case  would 
probably  come  up  for  hearing  at  three  o'clock. 

The  following  morning  Archibald  Kenton,  a 
well-known  young  attorney  who  had  been  Ward 
leigh's  schoolmate,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  came 
to  me  and  stated  that  he  had  been  retained  to  de 
fend  the  prisoner;  and  that  he  was  willing  to 
waive  an  examination.  Although  such  a  course 
was  contrary  to  our  usual  practice,  still,  it  was 
sometimes  pursued,  and  I  consented.  It  was  ar 
ranged  that  the  prisoner  should  be  brought  be 
fore  the  commissioner  at  two  o'clock  that  day 
instead  of  three.  At  that  hour  he  was  pro 
duced.  Mr.  Kenton,  Captain  Lux,  and  I  were 
present.  At  my  request  his  bail  was  fixed  at 
ten  thousand  dollars,  and  he  was  held  to  answer 
before  the  United  States  District  Court  to  any 
indictment  that  might  be  found  against  him  by 
the  grand  jury.  The  commissioner  then  asked 
if  he  was  prepared  to  give  bail.  Mr.  Kenton 
answered  that  as  yet  he  was  not,  but  that  he 


THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 


79 


would  probably  produce  bondsmen  during  the 
day.  The  commissioner  was  then  proceeding 
to  make  out  a  new  commitment  when  the  door 
opened  and  two  ladies,  accompanied  by  Judge 
Tremwick,  one  of  the  most  prominent  attorneys 
at  the  bar,  entered.  Both  ladies  were  attired  in 
simple  street  costumes;  there  was  an  air  of 
refinement  about  them  which  indicated  their  so 
cial  standing.  The  elder  was  a  woman  long 
past  the  meridian  of  life,  tall  and  dignified,  with 
snow-white  hair,  a  pale,  clear  complexion,  and 
a  most  sweet  and  benevolent  face.  The  younger 
was  veiled,  and  came  in  upon  the  arm  of  Judge 
Tremwick.  She  seemed  to  be  in  the  deepest 
distress.  Seeing  Wardleigh,  they  approached 
him.  He  turned  deathly  pale. 

"  Luke,  what  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?"  said 
the  younger  of  the  ladies  in  a  voice  choked  with 
tears. 

"  I  will  explain  it  all  to  you,"  he  replied,  "  but 
not  now.  I  intended  to  write  to  you  or  to  our 
friend,"  turning  towards  the  elder  lady,  who 
looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of  tenderness 
and  infinite  pity  in  her  beautiful  blue  eyes. 

"Then  come  home  with  us;  this  seems  like 
a  prison,"  said  she,  with  a  shudder. 


go  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

The  request  and  the  remark  caused  a  slight 
smile  to  flit  across  the  faces  of  the  officers  about. 
Poor  creature!  How  little  she  knew  of  the 
hard  grasp  of  the  law  or  of  the  interior  of  a 
real  prison! 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Judge  Tremwick,  offer 
ing  the  ladies  chairs.  "We  will  have  to  wait 
a  few  minutes." 

They  sat  down  at  his  bidding,  but  with  a  look 
of  anxious  surprise  that  there  should  be  any 
delay.  Tremwick  asked  me  in  a  low  tone  about 
the  bail.  I  told  him  what  it  was.  He  said 
that  he  would  sign  as  one  of  the  bondsmen. 
He  thought  a  moment  and  then  spoke  to  Ken- 
ton,  who  immediately  left  the  room,  and  in  a 
few  moments  returned  accompanied  by  a  gentle 
man  whose  place  of  business  was  near  by.  After 
a  brief  conference  he  introduced  him  to  Ward- 
leigh,  from  which  I  saw  that  he  was  a  stranger 
to  the  prisoner.  The  bond  was  then  made  out, 
and  Judge  Tremwick  and  the  merchant  signed 
it  and  qualified.  In  the  mean  time  neither 
Wardleigh  nor  either  of  the  ladies  had  spoken. 
The  party  left,  the  merchant  excusing  himself 
and  hurrying  away.  The  others  departed  to 
gether,  the  elder  lady  leaning  on  the  arm  of 


THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY  gl 

Judge  Tremwick  and  the  younger  clinging  to 
Wardleigh.  I  did  not  see  her  face,  but  as  they 
passed  out  I  caught  the  sound  of  a  low  sob. 
Captain  Lux  walked  down  the  corridor  towards 
my  office  with  me. 

"  His  sweetheart  and  her  mother,  I  suppose," 
said  he. 

"  Probably/'  I  replied ;  "  but  I  wonder  what 
interest  Judge  Tremwick  can  have  in  the  case? 
If  the  elder  lady  is  his  client  he  would  of  course 
come  down  with  her,  although  he  does  not  take 
criminal  business;  but  yet  he  gave  the  bail, 
which  is  large,  without  being  asked.  He  evi 
dently  made  himself  responsible  to  the  other 
bondman.  A  man  would  hardly  do  this  with 
out  knowing  something  about  the  case,  or  at 
least  unless  he  had  perfect  confidence  in  the 
prisoner." 

"  Well,"  said  the  captain,  "  there  is  no  telling 
what  a  man  will  do  in  the  presence  of  a  lovely 
woman.  Let  us  assume  that  the  face  behind  the 
veil  is  as  beautiful  as  the  figure  of  the  lady  is 
graceful,  and  we  have  an  explanation." 

I  simply  said  that  I  thought  that  he  was  mis 
taken.  The  whole  matter  was  quite  inexplicable 
to  me. 

6 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   TRIAL 

A!  FEW  clays  later  I  went  over  the  case  again 
with  the  inspectors  and  determined  to  present  it 
to  the  grand  jury  as  soon  as  possible.  Although 
I  would  have  been  safe  in  resting  on  the  decoy 
letters,  I  preferred  not  to  do  so,  and  selected  one 
of  the  actual  complaints  which  had  been  investi 
gated  by  the  officers.  I  joined  the  case  with  the 
three  "test"  letters  found  rifled  in  the  office  at 
Melton.  The  complaint  which  I  chose  was 
where  a  father  in  Shasta  County  had  sent  twenty 
dollars  to  his  daughter  in  Berkeley.  The  letter 
reached  Berkeley  after  stopping  over  at  Melton, 
and  the  money  was  missing,  there  being  the 
usual  hole  in  the  lower  left-hand  corner  of  the 
enclosed  envelope.  Among  the  witnesses  sub 
poenaed  were  the  father  who  sent  the  letter  and 
the  daughter  who  received  it.  , 

I  had  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  the  indictment. 

The  members  of  the  grand  jury  were  greatly 

interested   and   followed   the   evidence   closely. 

In  the  case  of  the  Berkeley  letter,  I  proved  by 

82 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY  83 

Rev.  Talbot  Jordan  that  he  had  himself  mailed 
the  letter  to  his  daughter,  Miss  Edith.  I  traced 
the  letter  to  Melton,  where  it  was  receipted  for 
by  Wardleigh,  and  then  on  to  Berkeley,  where 
it  was  delivered  to  Miss  Jordan,  who  opened  it 
before  leaving  the  office  and  found  the  money 
missing;  which  fact  she  reported  at  once  to  the 
postmaster.  I  examined  each  person  who  had 
handled  the  letter ;  all  swore  that  they  had  passed 
it  on  intact.  The  appearance  of  Miss  Jordan 
made  a  little  sensation  in  the  dull,  monotonous 
jury-room.  She  was  as  pretty  as  a  picture, 
bright,  blooming,  and  so  sweet  and  modest  that 
when  she  had  finished  her  testimony  half  of  the 
jurors  wanted  to  accompany  her  to  the  door.  I 
claimed  that  privilege  as  my  prerogative.  When 
I  bowed  her  out  she  turned,  with  a  serious,  anx 
ious  look  in  her  eyes,  and  said, — 

"  I  hope  that  you  will  not  succeed  in  finding 
out  who  did  it.  It  would  be  dreadful  if  any 
one  should  be  sent  to  prison  on  my  testimony." 
She  evidently  did  not  know  that  any  one  had 
been  arrested  for  the  crime. 

The  evidence  against  the  prisoner,  as  to  this 
letter,  when  taken  in  connection  with  the  testi 
mony  of  the  inspectors  and  the  proof  obtained 


84  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

when  Wardleigh  was  arrested,  made  a  very 
strong  case  of  circumstantial  evidence  against 
him.  I  soon  presented  the  proof.  I  had  already 
prepared  an  indictment,  containing  four  counts, 
each  of  which  charged  a  separate  felony.  I 
then  withdrew;  in  a  few  moments  I  was  sum 
moned,  and  informed  by  the  foreman  that  the 
grand  jury  had  found  a  "  True  bill." 

A  week  later  the  defendant  was  arraigned. 
He  entered  a  plea  of  "not  guilty."  I  then 
moved  that  the  case  be  set  for  trial  two  weeks 
later.  To  this  Kenton  bitterly  objected,  insist 
ing  that  I  was  persecuting  and  "  railroading" 
his  client.  The  judge  said,  rather  severely,  that 
counsel  appeared  to  have  forgotten  that  he  was 
not  before  the  police  court ;  that  ample  time 
would  be  given  the  defendant  to  obtain  his  wit 
nesses  and  prepare  for  trial.  There  being  no 
pretence  that  he  could  not  get  his  witnesses  in 
two  weeks,  the  case  was  set  for  the  time  indicated 
by  me. 

The  day  of  the  trial  arrived.  I  had  all  of  my 
witnesses  in  attendance.  Wardleigh  came  in 
accompanied  by  his  attorney.  I  saw  a  number 

of  strangers  present  whom  I  took  to  be  his  wit- 

«A).'*flpwjM 

nesses.     The  room  in  which  the  district  court 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  85 

was  held  was  large,  and,  on  a  cloudy  day,  a 
little  gloomy.  I  expected  to  see  the  ladies  who 
had  accompanied  Judge  Tremwick  to  the  com 
missioner's  office,  and  perhaps  that  eminent  coun 
sel,  but  they  were  not  there.  The  only  lady 
present  was  Miss  Jordan,  who  sat  talking  pleas 
antly  with  her  father,  a  dignified  but  cheerful 
gentleman  not  above  five-and-forty.  They 
seemed  very  happy  together.  She  was  dressed 
in  a  close-fitting  habit  of  some  dark  color  and 
wore  a  rather  sombre  hat,  but  for  all  that  her 
sweet  face  and  bright  eyes  made  a  bit  of  sun 
shine  in  the  great  room. 

The  judge  entered  and  took  his  seat;  the  bail 
iff  proclaimed  the  court  in  session.  After  some 
preliminary  business  the  jurors  were  called,  and 
it  was  found  that  thirty-four  were  present.  The 
case  of  the  United  States  against  Luke  Ward- 
leigh  was  then  called  and  answered  ready.  The 
prisoner  was  directed  by  the  deputy  marshal  to 
stand  up.  As  he  arose  I  was  struck  by  his 
handsome  face  and  figure.  I  had  not  previously 
observed  his  appearance,  having  only  seen  him 
in  the  commissioner's  office,  where  he  was  seated. 
As  he  stood  there  calmly  facing  the  court,  I  had 
a  strange,  vague  impression,  which  I  have  here- 


86  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

tofore  mentioned,  that  I  had  seen  him  and  par 
ticularly  noticed  him  before.  Slightly  built  and 
of  medium  height,  he  had  the  appearance  of 
possessing  great  physical  strength.  His  bear 
ing  was  gentlemanly.  He  wore  a  perfectly  fit 
ting  black  business  suit  and  scarf  of  olive  color 
set  off  by  a  pearl.  His  hair,  almost  black,  curled 
a  little  and  clung  closely  to  his  intellectual  fore 
head.  He  had  a  dark,  shapely  moustache.  His 
features  were  regular;  his  complexion  was  a 
clear  brunette,  and  his  face  was  lighted  by  a  pair 
of  brilliant  hazel  eyes.  Happening  to  look 
towards  Rev.  Mr.  Jordan  and  his  daughter,  I 
noticed  that  the  latter  became  suddenly  excited. 
She  asked  her  father  something,  probably 
whether  Wardleigh  was  the  prisoner,  to  which 
inquiry  he  gave  an  affectionate  nod,  and  she 
then  became  as  pale  as  death. 

At  that  moment  the  court  directed  that  we 
proceed  to  impanel  the  jury.  We  had  consid 
erable  difficulty  in  securing  twelve  men.  Ken- 
ton  used  his  full  allowance  of  ten  peremptory 
challenges.  He  questioned  and  cross-questioned 
every  one  called  to  the  box.  He  seemed  par 
ticularly  anxious  to  exclude  all  who  knew  me 
or  any  of  the  inspectors.  He  began  to  show 


THE  SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  87 

an  unusual  bitterness.  I  could  not  understand 
his  purpose.  At  length  the  jury  was  obtained 
and  sworn.  I  made  my  opening  statement. 
While  mentioning  the  evidence  which  I  intended 
to  produce  I  turned  towards  Miss  Jordan,  and 
was  not  a  little  disconcerted  to  see  that  she  was 
looking  incredulous  and  indignant. 

The  trial  lasted  four  days.  It  was  one  of  the 
most  interesting,  absorbing,  and  at  the  same  time 
one  of  the  most  annoying  and  disagreeable  cases 
that  I  ever  managed. 

I  concluded  to  put  in  the  evidence  relating  to 
the  decoy  letters  first.  My  witnesses  were  cross- 
examined  and  badgered  by  Kenton,  but  they 
were  not  shaken.  Captain  Lux  then  took  the 
stand  and  told  how  they  entered  the  post-office 
in  the  early  morning  of  the  day  of  the  arrest. 
They  found  Walton,  the  postmaster,  there; 
Wardleigh  came  in  a  moment  later.  They 
showed  their  authority  and  asked  to  see  the 
registered  mail.  Walton  said  that  it  was  in  a 
drawer  in  the  desk,  but  he  did  not  have  his 
keys.  Wardleigh,  on  being  asked,  produced  a 
duplicate  key.  The  letters  were  found,  and  Mr. 
Smithson  was  about  to  open  one  of  them  when 
Wardleigh  suggested  that  the  law  and  the  regu- 


88  THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

lations  forbade  any  post-office  official  to  open 
a  letter. 

"  Not  of  this  kind,"  said  Captain  Lux,  with  a 
laugh,  and  Mr.  Smithson  proceeded.  The  let 
ters  were  found  rifled  in  the  manner  I  have 
described.  They  then  asked  to  see  all  coin  in 
the  office,  which  the  postmaster  showed.  None 
of  the  marked  coins  were  found.  The  inspectors 
then  searched  Wardleigh,  who  made  no  resist 
ance.  In  one  of  his  pockets  they  found  a  piece 
of  the  marked  money, — a  silver  half-dollar.  At 
this  point  Kenton  showed  his  hand.  He  cross- 
examined  Captain  Lux,  and  subsequently  Mr. 
Smithson,  in  a  way  to  suggest  that  they  had 
probably  put  the  coin  into  Wardleigh's  pocket 
while  pretending  to  search  him.  I  was,  of 
course,  indignant  at  this,  but  also  surprised.  I 
saw  the  weak  point  in  my  case  and  supposed  that 
he  would  attack  it.  There  was  no  reason  given 
why  the  inspectors  did  not  also  search  Walton. 
Except  the  finding  of  the  piece  of  marked  coin 
in  Wardleigh's  pocket  there  was  nothing  to  show 
that  he  had  opened  the  letters,  any  more  than 
the  postmaster.  I  was  therefore  surprised,  and 
I  suppose  in  my  zeal  pleased  to  find  that  the  point 
had  been  overlooked  by  the  defence.  The  ac- 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY  89 

count  of  the  arrest  followed,  the  witnesses  ad 
mitting  that  the  prisoner  quietly  but  firmly 
denied  his  guilt.  But  the  proof  was  that 
upon  being  asked  to  account  for  the  marked 
money  in  his  pocket  he  had  said  that  he  could 
not. 

The  hour  of  adjournment  had  now  arrived. 
We  had  taken  a  recess  at  noon  and  I  had  hur 
ried  away  to  keep  an  appointment.  The  court 
admonished  the  jurymen  not  to  permit  any 
one  to  discuss  the  case  with  them  and  not 
to  discuss  it  among  themselves.  The  wit 
nesses  were  notified  to  be  in  attendance  the 
next  day  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  court  ad 
journed. 

From  what  I  had  seen  I  was  curious  to  know 
whether  Miss  Jordan  was  acquainted  with 
Wardleigh.  Where  seated,  at  the  bar  of  the 
court,  his  back  was  towards  her  and  he  had 
probably  not  seen  her.  At  recess  he  was  talk 
ing  with  his  attorney,  and  she  went  out  with 
her  father  as  I  left  the  room.  I  now  noticed  that, 
seeing  her  as  he  arose,  he  looked  at  her  care 
lessly,  then  sharply  and  intently.  There  was  at 
first  a  puzzled  expression  on  his  face;  then,  as 
if  he  remembered  something,  he  gave  a  proud 


90  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

glance.  A  faint  blush  overspread  his  cheeks. 
She  looked  towards  him  and  dropped  her  eyes, 
then  looked  up  again  bravely  and  turned  crim 
son.  There  was,  however,  no  sign  of  recogni 
tion  by  either.  I  was  utterly  nonplussed. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   VERDICT 

IN  one  of  the  leading  papers  the  next  morn 
ing  there  appeared  an  account  of  the  first  day  of 
the  trial  which  struck  me  as  curious.  The  in 
spectors  were  represented  in  the  most  unfavor 
able  light  possible  and  the  acquittal  of  the  de 
fendant  was  confidently  predicted.  I  thought 
that  I  could  see  Kenton's  hand  in  the  article. 
I  wondered  whether  it  was  not  designed  to  de 
ceive  some  one  into  the  belief  that  Wardleigh 
was  in  no  danger.  I  thought  of  the  veiled  lady. 

The  second  day  of  the  trial  proceeded.  The 
same  witnesses  and  persons  were  present  as  the 
day  before.  But  there  were  more  spectators. 
I  was  so  absorbed  that  I  did  not  notice  any  one 
not  connected  with  the  case. 

I  now  offered  my  evidence  as  to  the  Jordan 
letter  substantially  as  I  had  presented  it  to  the 
grand  jury.  The  testimony  of  Mr.  Jordan, 
however,  went  a  little  more  into  details.  I  con 
fess  that  I  drew  him  out  because  I  was  curious 
to  know  something  of  the  sweet  girl  whose  sym- 

91 


92  THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

pathy  with  the  prisoner  was  so  apparent  to  me. 
He  stated  that  he  was  an  Episcopal  minister  at 
Berkeley.  That  at  the  time  he  mailed  the  letter 
in  question  he  was  taking  a  vacation  and  resting 
at  the  ranch  of  a  friend  in  view  of  Mount  Shasta. 
He  had  stayed  longer  than  he  intended  and 
wrote  to  his  daughter  to  send  him  some  maga 
zines  and  books.  Driving  into  town  with  his 
friends,  he  enclosed  the  coin  and  registered  and 
mailed  the  letter  himself. 

"So  you  failed  to  get  your  books  and  peri 
odicals?"  I  inquired. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  he,  "  I  received  them  promptly. 
My  dear  child  took  the  money  from  her  own 
allowance,  stinted  herself,  I  fear,  and  bought  all 
that  I  asked  for  and  more.  She  did  not  even 
write  me  that  the  money  failed  to  reach  her." 
He  glanced  towards  her  affectionately  and 
proudly.  Poor  child !  Every  one  in  the  court 
room  looked  towards  her,  and  she  blushed  to 
the  tips  of  her  pretty  ears.  When  she  was  called 
to  the  witness-stand  we  had  quite  a  little  scene. 
It  was  touching  and  painful,  but  did  not  tend 
to  break  or  weaken  the  chain  of  circumstantial 
evidence  against  the  prisoner.  When  I  had 
proven  the  single  fact  for  which  she  was  called 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 


93 


— that  the  letter  reached  her  without  the  coin, 
rifled  in  the  peculiar  manner  noticed — I  had  no 
further  questions  to  ask. 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  you  have  any 
personal  knowledge  that  this  defendant  opened 
your  letter  or  extracted  the  money  from  it?" 
asked  Kenton.  The  question  was  inconsequen 
tial  and  hardly  cross-examination;  but  much 
latitude  is  allowed  and  I  did  not  object.  The 
truth  is  I  was  quite  curious  to  see  what  interest 
she  would  show  in  Wardleigh. 

"  Certainly  not,"  she  replied. 

"  You  do  not  know  and  never  saw  the  defend 
ant  before  this  trial,  did  you  ?" 

I  now  began  to  see  that  Kenton  had  an  object 
in  view.  I  noticed  that  Wardleigh  tried  to  check 
him  as  he  was  asking  the  question  and  seemed 
annoyed. 

"  I  do  not  know  him,  sir,  but  I  have  seen  him 
before,"  she  replied,  without  any  hesitation. 

"  When,  where,  and  under  what  circum 
stances,  please?" 

Again  Wardleigh  tried  to  prevent  the  ques 
tion,  but  Kenton  did  not  heed  him.  The  judge 
looked  towards  me  to  see  whether  I  intended 
to  object,  and  seeing  that  I  did  not,  was  about 


94 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 


to  direct  her  not  to  answer;  but  I  rather  think 
that  his  curiosity  got  the  better  of  him,  too,  and 
he  desisted. 

"  In  Berkeley,  some  months  ago,"  she  an 
swered,  with  heightened  color,  "  I  saw  him  save 
the  life  of  an  old  lady  and  her  granddaughter 
at  the  risk  of  his  own.  Their  horses  were 
madly  running  away ;  the  driver  had  fallen  out, 
and  he,  this  young  gentleman,  threw  himself  in 
front  of  the  horses  and,  though  they  dragged 
him  a  long  distance,  he  mastered  them." 

There  was  quite  a  sensation,  suppressed  but 
nevertheless  felt.  The  judge  looked  half  indig 
nant  and  half  amused.  I  think  that  he  con 
sidered  it  a  cleverly  prepared  scene.  The  jurors 
seemed  interested  and  sympathetic.  I  did  not 
look  at  the  spectators,  but  Wardleigh's  attorney 
had  a  triumphant  smile  on  his  face.  I  felt  an 
noyed,  for  I  had  had  experience  enough  in  crim 
inal  trials  to  fear  the  result.  I  have  learned 
that  although  the  theory  of  the  law  is  that  it  is 
the  duty  of  the  jury  merely  to  say  whether  or 
not  the  accused  is  guilty,  leaving  to  the  judge 
the  matter  of  punishment,  still,  juries  will  not, 
as  a  rule,  convict  unless  they  are  satisfied  that 
the  accused  is  not  only  guilty,  but  that  he  ought 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  95 

to  be  punished.  Now  in  this  case  I  entertained 
no  doubt  whatever  of  the  prisoner's  guilt.  I 
deemed  the  evidence  sufficient  to  warrant  his 
conviction,  and  I  was  not  pleased  at  the  pros 
pect  of  the  defeat  of  justice  by  an  acquittal 
secured  in  this  way. 

"  But,  of  course,"  said  I  to  the  witness  in  my 
zeal,  "this  does  not  change  the  fact  that  the 
coin  which  your  father  sent  to  you  was  not  in 
the  letter  when  you  received  it."  My  question 
was  objected  to  on  the  ground  that  I  had  al 
ready  gone  into  that  matter,  and  the  judge 
promptly  sustained  the  objection.  But  Miss 
Jordan  answered  my  question  all  the  same  and 
gave  me  a  parting  shot. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  she ;  "  but  I  don't  believe  for 
a  moment  that  he  took  it."  The  jurors  laughed. 
The  judge  interposed,  and  said, — 

"  The  witness  must  restrain  herself.  It  is  not 
what  she  believes,  but  what  she  knows,  that  is 
evidence." 

She  became  quite  crestfallen  at  this  reproof 
and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  left  the 
stand.  I  glanced  at  Wardleigh.  There  was 
a  strange  expression, — a  new  light  in  his 
face. 


96  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

The  court  now  took  a  recess  with  the  usual 
formalities.  Before  the  adjournment  I  sug 
gested  that  we  might  excuse  Mr.  Jordan  and 
his  daughter  from  further  attendance.  Kenton 
objected,  saying  that  he  might  wish  to  recall 
them  for  further  cross-examination.  But  I  no 
ticed  Wardleigh  speaking  earnestly  to  him,  and 
I  heard  the  words,  "  I  will  not  allow  her  to  be 
annoyed."  Then  Kenton  withdrew  his  objec 
tion.  They  were  discharged  and  did  not  return 
during  the  trial. 

As  we  walked  out  of  the  court-room  Kenton 
whispered  to  me,  "I  was  afraid  that  Miss  Jor 
dan  would  tell  that  she  was  the  granddaughter 
who  was  in  the  carriage,  but  she  did  not.  It 
would  have  spoiled  the  effect.  Her  interest  in 
my  client  would  have  been  too  apparent." 

During  the  recess  I  ran  over  the  evidence  in  the 
case  and  I  found  I  had  nothing  further  to  offer. 
I  was  dissatisfied  and  not  confident  of  the  re 
sult.  There  was  of  course  no  direct  proof  that 
Wardleigh  had  opened  the  letters.  As  I  have 
explained,  the  circumstances  pointed  as  much 
to  Walton  as  to  his  deputy.  Except  the  proof 
of  possession  by  the  latter  of  the  marked  half- 
dollar,  I  had  entirely  failed  to  account  for  the 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY  97 

non-production  or  discovery  of  the  other  marked 
coin  which  had  been  put  in  the  decoy  letters.  I 
felt  that  the  sympathies  of  the  jurors  were  with 
the  prisoner. 

However,  as  often  happens  in  such  cases,  the 
defendant's  lawyer  came  to  my  relief.  Before 
resting  the  prosecution  I  called  Major  Anderson 
to  the  stand  to  prove  his  constant  possession  of 
the  rifled  letters,  including  the  Jordan  letter, 
since  the  arrest.  Kenton  began  to  cross-exam 
ine  him  again : 

"  Is  this  so-called  Jordan  letter  the  only  case 
of  the  rifling  of  registered  mail  reported  to  you 
from  that  part  of  the  State?" 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  the  major ;  "  within  the 
past  four  months  there  have  been  seventeen  other 
cases  reported  to  us." 

"  Seventeen  other  cases !  And  why  have  you 
only  mentioned  this  one?" 

"  I  have  not  been  asked  about  them." 

"  Oh,  I  see !  the  attorney  for  the  government 
has  kept  such  information  as  might  be  favorable 
to  the  defendant  from  seeing  the  light."  Ken- 
ton  said  this  with  a  sneer  and  with  a  withering 
look  directed  towards  me,  but  intended  to  be 
seen  by  the  jury. 

7 


98  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

"Very  well,  sir,  that  will  do.  You  can  step 
down." 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Kenton,"  said  I,  "  this  is  my 
witness  and  I  am  quite  far  from  being  through 
with  him  now  that  you  have  opened  up  a  new 
and  important  phase  of  the  case." 

He  saw  that  he  had  blundered  and  fought 
vigorously  by  objecting,  protesting,  and  contest 
ing  at  every  step,  but  it  was  unavailing.  The 
court  ruled  that  having  himself  asked  concerning 
these  additional  letters  I  was  entitled  to  show 
everything  about  them. 

And  now  to  shorten  this  account :  during  the 
remainder  of  the  day  and  the  greater  part  of  the 
next  I  was  occupied  in  presenting  to  the  jury, 
through  the  inspectors,  the  seventeen  complaints 
and  the  rifled  letters  to  which  they  related.  I 
showed  that  every  one  of  them  had  passed 
through  Melton ;  that  they  were  all  rifled  in  the 
same  way, — all  of  the  evidence  detailed  to  me 
by  Major  Anderson.  I  proved  that  in  nearly 
every  instance  the  letter  had  been  receipted  for 
by  Wardleigh.  There  was  a  curious  fact  came 
to  light  which  had  not  been  noticed  before. 
The  depredations  had  commenced  some  four 
months  before  Wardleigh's  arrest,  had  con- 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 


99 


tinued  for  two  months,  had  ceased  for  three 
weeks,  and  commenced  again.  I  noticed  from 
the  handwriting  on  the  registry  book  that  Ward- 
leigh  was  apparently  not  in  the  office  during  the 
time  when  the  depredations  did  not  occur.  This 
came  out  as  I  cross-examined  him  when  he  took 
the  stand.  I  considered  it  a  very  strong  fact, 
almost  amounting  to  demonstration. 

When  I  finally  rested  for  the  government  at 
noon  on  the  third  day,  the  case  had  taken  a  dif 
ferent  aspect.  No  one  now  doubted  the  guilt 
of  the  prisoner.  The  evidence  was  simply  con 
clusive.  Nor  was  Kenton  able  to  break  it  down. 
He  made  no  opening  statement,  reserving  his 
points  for  his  argument.  He  put  Wardleigh 
on  the  stand,  who  made  a  good  appearance  but 
was  not  able  to  clear  up  the  overwhelming  case 
against  him.  He,  however,  positively  denied 
that  he  opened  the  letters.  Kenton  tried  to  show 
that  he  was  absent  a  considerable  part  of  the 
day  when  the  decoy  letters  arrived,  but  I  showed 
that  he  was  there  in  the  evening  when  the  letters 
were  most  probably  opened.  To  do  this  in  re 
buttal  I  called  Walton,  whom  I  had  not  intended 
to  examine.  He  presented  a  pitiable  sight.  He 
hesitated  and  stammered,  but  nevertheless  estab- 


I00    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

lished  the  fact.  I  regretted,  however,  that  I  had 
required  him  to  be  sworn.  It  was  hard  to  com 
pel  him  to  testify  against  one  so  nearly  related 
to  him.  Kenton  offered  several  witnesses  to 
the  previous  good  character  of  the  accused.  I 
made  no  effort  to  question  it.  Reputation  and 
character  only  become  available  as  a  defence 
when  the  evidence  leaves  a  doubt  as  to  whether 
the  accused  committed  the  crime  of  which  he 
stands  charged. 

On  the  fourth  day  the  case  was  argued  and 
given  to  the  jury.  Kenton  was  exceedingly 
bitter  because  he  was  desperate.  He  attacked 
the  inspectors  and  he  attacked  me.  I  paid  no 
attention  to  him  so  far  as  his  assault  on  me 
went,  but  I  defended  the  inspectors,  of  whose 
integrity  I  knew,  and  I  animadverted  with  much 
severity  upon  Kenton's  unbridled  tongue.  Fi 
nally,  the  eminent  and  learned  judge,  who  for 
more  than  thirty  years  had  presided  in  the  court, 
charged  the  jury.  As  usual  it  was  a  masterly 
effort.  He  summed  up  the  evidence  with  re 
markable  clearness,  precision,  and  fairness.  The 
jury  were  out  less  than' a  half-hour.  They  re 
turned  a  verdict  of  "  guilty  as  charged,"  recom 
mending  the  prisoner  to  the  mercy  of  the  court. 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY         IOI 

Wardleigh  seemed  surprised  and  much  affected, 
but  bore  himself  bravely  and  soon  recovered  his 
countenance.  Kenton  was  crestfallen  and  very 
much  depressed.  Walton  was  far  more  deeply 
affected  than  Wardleigh.  He  seemed  to  be 
dazed,  then  broke  down  and  wept  like  a  child. 
Under  the  practice  in  the  court  the  prisoner  was 
taken  into  cutody  by  the  marshal.  At  my  sug 
gestion,  instead  of  being  sent  to  the  county  jail 
in  the  city  he  was  removed  to  the  jail  in  Oak 
land,  a  less  disagreeable  place. 

The  trial  was  concluded  on  Friday  evening. 
The  court  appointed  Monday  as  the  day  for  pro 
nouncing  sentence. 


CHAPTER   IX 

AN    UNEXPLAINED    WARNING 

MY  interview  with  Lloyd  Farrington  at  the 
Palace  Hotel  took  place  in  the  evening  of  the 
last  day  of  the  trial.  It  will  be  remembered 
that  I  parted  with  him  on  Market  Street  in 
front  of  the  hotel,  when  he  took  a  cable  car 
for  the  Oakland  ferry;  it  being  his  design  to 
see  Luke  Wardleigh  again  that  night, — to  re 
main  with  him,  in  fact,  as  I  afterwards  learned. 

While  I  stood  there  for  a  moment  I  thought 
I  saw  Clanton  getting  on  another  car,  as  already 
mentioned.  I  paid  little  attention  to  the  circum 
stance,  however,  not  being  at  all  worried  at 
the  possibility  that  Clanton  was  following  Far 
rington  with  an  evil  purpose.  I  had  such  im 
plicit  confidence  in  the  courage  and  skill  of 
Farrington  that  the  thought  of  his  being  in 
danger  did  not  even  occur  to  me. 

I  turned  to  re-enter  the  hotel,  and  as  I  did 
so  I  looked  at  my  watch.  It  was  a  few  minutes 
before  half-past  nine;  I  reflected  that  Lloyd 
would  just  have  time  to  catch  the  half -past 
nine  boat.  I  was  about  to  go  to  my  apartments ; 
1 02 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 


103 


I  was  residing  at  the  Palace  at  the  time.  My 
family,  as  will  be  seen  presently,  were  out  of 
town,  however,  and  I  was  easily  diverted  from 
my  purpose. 

I  remembered  at  that  moment  that  my  wife's 
sister  had  telephoned  me  during  the  day  that 
her  husband,  Dr.  Harvey  Guthrie,  who  was  my 
close  friend,  would  return  that  evening  by  the 
Overland  from  the  East.  I  determined  to  go 
down  and  meet  him,  and  as  I  felt  the  need  of 
exercise  I  concluded  to  walk;  I  saw  that  I 
had  sufficient  time  to  reach  the  landing  before 
the  boat  would  be  due. 

I  accordingly  stepped  into  the  corridor  of 
the  hotel  and  sent  a  boy  to  the  cloak-room  for 
my  overcoat  and  a  favorite  heavy  black-thorn 
stick  which  I  kept  there.  They  were  brought 
to  me  promptly  and  I  hurriedly  started  off. 

The  fog  was  thickening  rapidly  and  a  stiff 
breeze  was  blowing  down  the  street:  it  was 
just  such  a  night  as  I  liked  for  a  stroll.  I  enjoy 
a  sea  fog  in  San  Francisco;  it  is  never  chilly 
and  is  always  invigorating.  When  I  want  to 
be  particularly  alone  or  when  I  want  to  think 
without  being  disturbed  I  often  wander  out  on 
such  nights. 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

The  street  was  quite  deserted,  and  as  I 
hastened  along  at  a  brisk  pace  there  was 
nothing  to  divert  my  attention.  I  accordingly 
tried  to  concentrate  my  mind  upon  the  strange 
and  unexpected  phase  that  the  Wardleigh  case 
had  taken  within  the  few  hours  that  had  elapsed 
since  the  close  of  the  trial. 

I  soon  found,  however,  that  my  thoughts 
were  in  a  confused  whirl.  Farrington's  asser 
tions  and,  above  all,  his  manly  bearing  and  pro 
found  earnestness  had  quite  upset  me.  The 
Wardleigh  trial  had  been  interesting  and  ex 
citing,  but  when  it  was  over,  when  the  verdict 
of  guilty  was  recorded  and  the  prisoner  ordered 
into  custody,  I  felt  no  regrets.  I  suppose  I 
really  experienced  a  certain  sense  of  triumphant 
satisfaction  in  having  secured  a  conviction 
against  rather  unfavorable  odds.  At  any  rate, 
I  had  no  doubt  whatever  of  Luke  Wardleigh's 
guilt,  as  I  had  told  Lloyd  Farrington. 

Then  came  the  revelation  of  Farrington's 
supreme  confidence  in  the  innocence  of  his 
friend  and,  what  was  still  more  startling  to 
me,  the  discovery  of  the  identity  of  Wardleigh 
with  the  young  man  whom  I  had  seen  with 
Farrington  in  Arizona. 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 


105 


As  I  walked  on  down  the  street  through  the 
damp  murky  night,  undisturbed  by  the  few 
passers-by  and  undiverted  by  the  rushing  and 
clanging  of  the  many  cable  cars  which  ran  to 
and  from  the  ferry,  or  by  the  monotonous  blow 
ing  and  bellowing  of  the  distant  fog-horn, — 
in  the  midst  of  all  this,  which  I  probably  did 
not  consciously  notice  then,  I  tried,  as  I  say, 
to  think  of  the  Wardleigh  case,  tried  to  con 
sider  whether  there  was  any  possibility  of  my 
being  mistaken  as  to  Wardleigh's  guilt.  Some 
how  I  was  unable  to  bring  myself  to  review  the 
facts.  Do  what  I  would  my  thoughts  wandered 
and  reverted  to  the  scenes  in  Arizona  three 
years  before.  The  hours  and  the  incidents  of 
that  night  passed  before  me  like  a  panorama.  I 
saw  Wardleigh,  as  in  a  dream,  first  insisting 
upon  accompanying  his  friend  who  was  in 
danger,  then  riding  like  mad  in  the  shadow  of 
the  eclipse  to  meet  and  thwart  the  assassin; 
heard  the  call  to  halt  at  the  well  by  the  stunted 
trees,  the  shots,  and  his  defiant  laugh.  I  dis 
tinctly  remembered  how  proud  and  handsome 
he  looked  as  he  came  out  to  meet  Farrington  at 
Contention  after  saving  his  life,  and  I  was  at 
length  able  to  understand  the  impression  that  I 


I06         THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

had  had  in  the  court-room  as  he  arose  the  first 
day  of  the  trial.  Then  I  recalled  the  romantic 
account  of  Farrington's  life,  as  he  related  it  to 
me  amid  the  heavenly  splendors  of  that  morn 
ing.  The  whole  sad  and  touching  story  came 
back  vividly  and  stood  out  more  clearly  than 
even  the  scenes  of  the  trial. 

I  now  saw  that  the  tall  and  beautiful  lady 
with  the  sweet,  pale  face  and  snow-white  hair, 
who  came  to  the  commissioner's  office  when 
Luke  Wardleigh  was  held  to  bail,  was  Lloyd 
Farrington's  mother, — I  recalled  the  resem 
blance  of  her  dark,  deep-blue  eyes  to  his.  The 
veiled  lady  who  accompanied  her,  about  whom 
we  were  so  curious,  was  not  Wardleigh's  sweet 
heart,  but  his  sister,  Ruth  Wardleigh,  whom 
Farrington  loved,  and  who  was  or  had  been 
afflicted  by  a  terrible  delusion.  Perhaps  she  had 
recovered.  If  not,  or  even  if  she  had,  would  not 
the  agony  of  this  new  sorrow  drive  her  wholly 
mad?  Mrs.  Walton,  the  wife  of  the  postmaster 
at  Melton,  was  Ruth  Wardleigh's  sister.  She 
had  only  appeared  as  a  shadow  in  Farrington's 
story.  Did  not  Major  Anderson  say  that  he 
had  learned  that  she  was  ill  beyond  hope  of 
recovery?  Would  not  this  shock  of  the  news 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY         107 

of  her  brother's  disgrace  kill  her?  The  whole 
complication  began  to  be  horrible  to  me.  Then 
I  thought  again  and  again  of  Farrington's  posi 
tive  assertion  that  Luke  Wardleigh  was  guilt 
less  of  the  crime  of  which  he  had  been  convicted. 
He  had  not  merely  stated  it  as  a  matter  of  belief, 
— as  a  conclusion  from  his  confidence  in  his 
friend's  integrity;  on  the  contrary,  he  had 
spoken  of  Wardleigh's  innocence  deliberately 
and  as  within  his  own  knowledge.  Of  Far 
rington's  absolute  sincerity  and  truthfulness  I 
had  no  doubt.  What  was  I  to  think?  I  could 
not  be  mistaken.  The  proof  of  Wardleigh's 
guilt  was  simply  overwhelming, — as  complete 
and  satisfactory  as  a  mathematical  demonstra 
tion,  as  I  had  argued  to  the  jury.  The  conclusive- 
ness  of  the  proof  was  more  complete  than  if  it 
had  been  direct  evidence.  Witnesses  may  lie, 
may  be  mistaken,  but  the  logic  of  entirely  con 
curring  circumstances  is  unanswerable.  Still, 
now  that  the  identity  of  Wardleigh  had  been 
made  known-  to  me,  I  found  myself  thinking 
all  the  while  of  the  improbability  that  he  had 
committed  the  crime.  Then  I  began  to  search 
my  memory  for  some  fact  that  might  suggest 
the  possibility  of  his  innocence,  but  I  could 


I0g    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

think  of  nothing.  As  I  now  recall  the  state  of 
my  mind  that  night  I  am  not  certain  whether  I 
was  anxious  to  find  a  flaw  in  the  case  or  not, 
but  I  think  I  was.  At  any  rate,  I  am  sure  that 
I  desired  above  all  things  that  there  should  be 
no  miscarriage  of  justice.  I  remembered  that 
I  had  a  complete  transcript  of  the  testimony  in 
the  case  at  my  office,  together  with  all  of  the 
documentary  evidence  and  the  reports  of  the 
inspectors.  I  determined  that  before  moving 
for  sentence  upon  Wardleigh  I  would  make  an 
exhaustive  and  critical  re-examination  of  the 
whole  case. 

I  had  now  reached  the  vicinity  of  the  ferry- 
landing,  and  looking  up,  I  saw  by  the  illumi 
nated  clock  in  the  little  wooden  tower  over  the 
long,  low,  ramshackle  ferry  buildings  which 
stood  there  at  that  time  that  it  lacked  but  a  few 
minutes  of  ten.  Just  then  the  whistle  of  an 
arriving  boat  gurgled  through  the  dense  fog 
and  was  repeated  again  and  again,  indicating 
that  the  boat  was  having  difficulty  in  making  a 
landing. 

I  hastened  forward  to  watch  for  Dr.  Guth- 
rie,  but  only  to  learn  from  an  employe  of  the 
company  who  recognized  me  that  the  Over- 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 


109 


land  had  been  delayed  and  would  not  arrive 
until  two  hours  later.  I  then  concluded  not 
to  wait,  as  I  had  no  appointment  to  meet 
him. 

Not  caring  to  face  the  rising  west  wind  which 
was  driving  the  fog  down  the  street,  I  deter 
mined  to  ride  back  to  the  hotel,  and  was  about 
to  enter  a  cable  car  when  I  heard  my  name 
called.  Turning  quickly,  I  was  surprised  to  see 
Farrington  approaching  from  the  direction  of 
the  ferry  waiting-room.  When  he  came  up 
he  expressed  surprise  at  seeing  me  there,  and  I 
explained  to  him  in  a  few  words  that  I  had 
walked  down  to  meet  a  friend  whom  I  was  ex 
pecting  by  the  Overland.  I  did  not  mention 
the  name  of  Dr.  Guthrie,  however. 

Farrington  then  told  me  that  he  had  been 
prevented  from  crossing  by  the  dense  fog  on 
the  bay.  The  boat  that  should  have  gone  at 
nine-thirty  had  been  held  back.  The  pilot  whom 
he  sought  out  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  gale 
would  soon  sweep  the  fog  inland  and  that  in  a 
short  time  the  bay  would  be  clear. 

"I  am  glad,"  continued  Farrington,  "that 
you  came  down  by  accident.  I  have  had  a  most 
strange  experience  since  I  parted  with  you, 


IIO    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

scarcely  half  an  hour  ago,  and  I  am  filled  just 
now  with  something  of  the  spirit  of  the  Ancient 
Mariner." 

I  gave  him  my  full  attention  at  once.  Instead 
of  continuing  he  placed  his  hand  on  my  arm  and 
with  a  gentle  pressure  moved  with  me  into  a 
covered  way,  a  short  distance  north  from  the 
cable  turntable,  which  led  to  the  outer  waiting- 
room  of  the  ferry.  Everything  was  dripping 
wet  and  the  surroundings  were  altogether 
gloomy  and  uninviting.  Farrington  did  not 
have  an  overcoat  and  I  supposed  that  he  was 
chilled  and  wanted  to  go  inside.  But  when  we 
reached  the  passage-way  which  led  by  the  ticket- 
office  to  the  door  of  the  outer  room  he  paused 
and,  drawing  me  to  one  side,  stopped  short. 

"It  was  just  here,"  said  he,  reflectively,  in 
a  low  voice,  "that  I  heard  the  warning." 

I  looked  at  him,  in  the  dim  light  which  fell 
from  the  flickering  gas-jets  in  front  of  the 
ticket-windows,  and  saw  a  strange,  tense  ex 
pression  on  his  face. 

"Did  I  understand  you "  I  commenced. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Grafton,"  said 
he,  "  I  have  no  right  to  ask  your  attention  and 
then  talk  in  enigmas.  Let  me  explain  as  far 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY          Iir 

as  I  can,  though  it  will  still  remain  a  mystery 
to  me  and  doubtless  to  both  of  us." 

I  was  quite  nonplussed.  If  I  had  not  had 
such  implicit  confidence  in  Farrington's  physical 
and  moral  courage  and  in  his  rare  balance  of 
mind  I  might  have  thought  that  he  was  un 
strung  and  flighty.  In  fact,  what  he  proceeded 
to  say  did  put  my  confidence  to  the  utmost  test. 

"  It  was  in  regard  to  Clanton,"  said  Farring- 
ton,  rather  disconnectedly  and  abruptly.  "Tell 
me,"  he  continued,  "does  he  still  carry  that 
blood-red  mark  on  his  face  which  you  told  me 
you  were  able  to  distinguish  in  the  glare  of  the 
moon  that  night  when  he  attempted  to  assassi 
nate  me  at  Contention?" 

I  replied  that  it  was  that  mark  of  Cain  on 
Clanton's  face,  as  some  one  had  called  it,  which 
had  attracted  my  attention  at  the  hotel  and  by 
which  I  had  at  once  recognized  him. 

"By  the  bye,  have  you  seen  him  here  at  the 
ferry?"  I  asked  the  question  rather  abruptly 
and  almost  apprehensively,  remembering  the 
incident  just  after  Farrington  and  I  parted  in 
front  of  the  hotel  when  I  thought  I  saw  Clanton 
follow  him  on  the  next  car. 

"I  have  not,"  replied  Lloyd,  answering  my 


H2         THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

question,  "yet  I  believe  he  is  lurking  near  here 
with  a  view  to  another  attempt  on  my  life." 
He  spoke  as  calmly  as  if  he  were  talking  of 
some  danger  hanging  over  a  stranger  at  a  dis 
tance.  There  was,  however,  the  same  tension 
in  his  voice  and  the  same  light  in  his  eyes  that 
I  had  heard  and  seen  that  night  at  Contention 
when  he  sprang  down  from  the  stage  and  met 
Luke  Wardleigh. 

"If  you  have  not  seen  him,"  said  I,  quickly, 
"  some  one  must  have  told  you  that  he  followed 
you,  for  you  say  you  have  been  warned,  and  I 
believe  that  he  did  come  to  the  ferry ;  I  am  quite 
sure  that  I  saw  him  board  the  next  car  after 
you  left  me." 

"  Then  there  need  be  no  further  doubt,"  said 
he,  still  speaking  in  that  low,  musical  tone, 
"though  I  myself  had  no  doubt  before." 

"  By  whom  were  you  warned  ?"  I  inquired 
with  deep  interest  and  much  more  excitement 
than  Lloyd  showed. 

"That  is  the  mystery,"  said  he,  putting  his 
hand  upon  my  shoulder  and  looking  into  my 
eyes  with  a  tender  far-away  look  in  his  own, — 
"a  mystery,  and  yet  to  me  a  vivid  reality. 

"  On  my  way  down  from  the  hotel,"  he  con- 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

tinued,  "  my  car  was  caught  in  a  jam  some  dis 
tance  short  of  the  stopping-place.  I  sprang  out 
to  run  forward,  fearing  that  I  might  miss  the 
boat.  At  that  moment  I  met  persons  returning 
from  the  ferry  and  heard  some  one  say  that 
there  would  be  no  boat  leaving  at  half-past 
nine  on  account  of  the  density  of  the  fog.  I 
thereupon  slackened  my  pace  and  walked  this 
way  slowly,  feeling  very  much  disappointed  and 
depressed,  for  I  knew  that  Luke  would  be  ex 
pecting  me.  When  I  reached  the  point  at  which 
we  are  now  standing  I  stopped  for  a  moment, 
thinking  whether  I  had  not  better  find  a  tele 
phone  and  get  word  to  Luke.  Then  occurred 
the  strangest  experience  that  man  ever  had.  I 
distinctly  heard  these  words:  'Oh,  sir,  for 
God's  sake  beware!  A  strange  man  is  follow 
ing  you  and  intends  to  murder  you.  He  has  a 
hideous  face  with  a  blood-red  mark  upon  it, — 
a  mark  that  resembles  a  claw.' 

"Judge  of  my  astonishment,  Mr.  Graf  ton, 
when  I  tell  you  that  these  words  were  uttered 
in  the  voice  of  one  whom  I  have  not  seen  for 
a  long  time  and  who  is,  as  I  am  absolutely 
certain,  miles  away.  I  say  that  I  heard  the 
words,  and  yet  I  did  not  hear  them  in  the 
8 


II4    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

ordinary  sense;  they  seemed  to  take  form  and 
vibrate  in  my  inner  consciousness." 

"  Has  Farrington  gone  mad  ?"  I  exclaimed 
to  myself  without  speaking  aloud.  "  Is  he,  too, 
the  unhappy  victim  of  hallucinations?"  Yet 
he  was  so  calm  and  rational.  I  did  not  know 
what  to  say  and  he  saw  my  embarrassment. 

"  How  foolish  I  am,"  said  he,  "  to  speak  of 
such  a  fancy,  for,  after  all,  it  must  have  been  a 
fancy !  Yet  it  seemed  so  real  that  I  felt  impelled 
to  relate  it  to  you  when  I  saw  you  approaching. 
I  can  almost  understand,"  he  added,  with  a  low, 
gentle  laugh,  "  the  story  of  the  Ancient  Mariner 
and  the  wedding  guest." 

There  was  just  then  a  succession  of  rapid 
taps  of  the  bell  in  the  little  tower,  and  we  knew 
that  the  ferry-boat  would  shortly  start  upon  her 
trip.  Farrington  expressed  his  satisfaction,  and 
we  moved  towards  the  entrance  of  the  waiting- 
room,  from  which  there  was  a  door  leading  into 
the  inner  room,  at  which  the  ticket-taker  sat. 
The  upper  end  of  the  covered  way,  a  short  dis 
tance  beyond  the  door  leading  into  the  outer 
room,  was  open. 

"  Let  us  see  how  the  fog  looks,"  said  Far 
rington,  stepping  forward  to  the  end  of  the 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

corridor,  where  he  could  have  an  unobstructed 
view  towards  the  north  and  west.  I  was  also 
interested  and  curious  and  so  kept  by  his 
side. 

There  was  no  gas  at  the  end  of  the  corridor 
and  the  night  beyond  was  dark.  Some  light, 
however,  fell  through  the  open  door  of  the  wait 
ing-room. 

Before  we  could  reach  the  open  air  to  take 
our  observation  Farrington  gave  a  sudden 
though  almost  imperceptible  start. 

"Again!"  I  heard  him  exclaim. 

An  instant  later  a  figure  rushed  from  a  dark 
corner.  I  saw  an  uplifted  hand  and  the  faint 
glitter  of  steel.  Farrington  sprang  away  from 
me  and  I  saw  that  he  had  drawn  a  revolver. 

"  Stop,  Clanton !"  said  he,  in  a  low  and  calm 
though  commanding  tone.  "  Stop !  surrender, 
or  you  will  meet  your  death." 

"  Never !"  the  fellow  hissed,  and  rushed  on. 

Whether  Farrington  would  have  fired  at  that 
moment  I  know  not,  but  from  what  occurred 
subsequently  I  rather  think  that  he  would  have 
tried  to  spare  the  villain's  life  even  then.  I  am 
sure,  however,  that  I  should  not  have  done  so. 
Had  I  been  armed  I  would  have  shot  the  fellow 


U6         THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

as  I  would  a  wild  beast.  As  it  was,  I  felt  im 
pelled  by  my  indignation  and  the  excitement 
of  the  situation  to  do  something.  I  held  my 
heavy  blackthorn  walking-stick  in  my  hand,  and 
far  quicker  than  I  can  write  the  words  I  raised 
it, — raised  it  when  Clanton  first  rushed  forward. 
As  the  word  "  Never !"  fell  from  his  lips  I  aimed 
a  blow  at  his  head  which  would  have  felled  him 
had  he  received  it.  He  dodged,  but  my  stick 
struck  his  uplifted  arm,  and  with  a  fierce  oath 
he  dropped  the  knife  from  his  hand. 

"  Surrender,  Clanton !"  again  exclaimed 
Lloyd  in  that  calm,  penetrating,  resonant 
voice;  "  surrender  or  I  shall  fire." 

The  murderer  uttered  something  between  his 
teeth,  turned,  stooped  low,  and  shot  out  into 
the  night. 

I,  of  course,  thought  that  Farrington  would 
fire,  but  he  did  not.  I  confess  that  I  was  dis 
appointed  and  indignant.  I  said  as  much  and 
deplored  the  escape  of  the  assassin. 

"  He  has  not  escaped,"  said  Lloyd,  quietly. 
"  He  will  be  caught  by  the  police,  or  I  will  cap 
ture  him.  There  was  no  necessity  to  take  his 
life.  Besides,"  he  added,  with  a  gentle  laugh, 
"  if  I  had  shot  him  I  might  have  been  detained 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

on  this  side  to-night,  and  I  promised  Luke  to 
return." 

The  bell  rang,  he  grasped  my  hand  warmly, 
uttered  some  unnecessary  thanks,  and  hurried 
away. 


CHAPTER   X 

AS   MISS   JORDAN   SAW   IT 

THE  next  day  was  Saturday,  and  there  being 
no  court  I  locked  myself  up  in  my  office,  took 
all  of  the  documents,  letters,  books,  and  papers 
in  the  Wardleigh  case,  together  with  the  testi 
mony  which  had  been  transcribed  by  the  official 
stenographer,  and  spent  several  hours. 

As  a  result  of  my  investigation  I  repaired  to 
the  judge's  chambers,  and  without  giving  him 
any  reason  stated  that  I  would  not  be  prepared 
to  move  for  sentence  on  Monday,  and  asked 
him  to  continue  the  matter  for  one  week.  I 
presume  he  thought  that  I  expected  that  a  mo 
tion  for  a  new  trial  would  be  made  by  Kenton 
and  that  I  would  not  be  ready  to  argue  it.  He 
seemed  a  little  surprised,  but  said  that  he  would 
postpone  the  sentence  of  the  prisoner  as  I  re 
quested.  He  then  took  occasion  to  comment 
pleasantly  upon  my  conduct  of  the  trial,  saying 
that  in  his  long  experience  he  had  never  seen 
a  prosecution,  depending  upon  circumstantial 
evidence,  more  satisfactorily  made  out. 
118 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY         IIQ 

Av,  .*.,_  ,.,^,^-..>^,,,..,. . 

I  then  went  to  the  county  jail  in  Oakland  and 
had  an  interview  with  Wardleigh  in  the  private 
office  of  the  jailer.  I  thought  I  might  find 
Lloyd  Farrington  there,  but  did  not.  My  in 
terview  amounted  to  nothing,  and  I  came  away 
dissatisfied  and  more  mystified  than  ever. 
Wardleigh  calmly  and  with  constant  dignity 
protested  that  he  was  innocent,  but  beyond 
that  he  would  say  nothing.  I  tried  to  induce 
him  to  suggest  some  theory  to  account  for  the 
circumstances  which  seemed  to  establish  his 
guilt.  He  simply  said  that  he  had  no  sugges 
tions  to  make. 

I  returned  to  the  city  and  to  my  office,  and 
immediately  sent  for  Archibald  Kenton.  With 
out  entering  into  explanations  I  suggested  to 
him  that  if  he  would  appear  in  court  on  Mon 
day  and  present  a  motion  for  a  new  trial  I 
would  set  it  for  argument  a  week  later.  Also 
that  if  he  would  move  to  admit  his  client 
to  bail  pending  the  hearing  of  the  motion 
I  would  consent  to  bail  in  the  sum  of  fif 
teen  thousand  dollars.  Kenton  was  much 
pleased. 

I  was  about  to  leave  my  office  for  the  day 
when  Rev.  Mr.  Jordan  and  his  daughter,  Miss 


I20    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

Edith,  entered.  I  offered  them  seats,  which 
they  took. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  this  intrusion," 
said  the  clergyman,  "  but  I  have  called  to  see 
you  in  regard  to  a  public  matter." 

"  No  intrusion  whatever,"  I  replied ;  "  as 
a  public  official  it  is  my  duty,  and  in  this  instance 
it  is  my  pleasure,  to  receive  those  who  call." 
I  bowed, — more  particularly  towards  his  lovely 
daughter.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  I  added, 
"  I  think  that  this  is  the  third  or  fourth  time 
I  have  met  Miss  Jordan, — am  I  to  understand 
that  you  are  here  again  in  regard  to  the  same 
case?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  replied ;  "  I  insisted  upon  my 
father  coming  over.  We  saw  in  the  papers  this 
morning  that  the  unfortunate  young  gentleman 
who  was  accused  of  opening  my  letter  was  con 
victed  and  has  been  sent  to  prison.  Oh,  sir,  I 
feel  dreadfully  about  it,  for  I  am  sure  I  accused 
an  innocent  man." 

"  The  truth  is,"  said  Mr.  Jordan,  "  my  daugh 
ter,  who  understands  these  unhappy  matters 
very  little,  thinks  that  she  is  blamable  for  the 
conviction  of  young  Wardleigh, — she  looks  upon 
herself  as  his  accuser." 


121 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  I  said,  turning  to  her, 
"  you  are  not  responsible  for  the  prisoner's  mis 
fortune.  You  were  called  to  prove  a  single  fact 
which  was  but  a  link  in  the  chain  of  evidence 
against  him.  You  were  in  no  sense  his  prose 
cutor."  Then,  as  I  thought  of  the  worry  she 
had  given  me  by  exhibiting  her  sympathy  for 
the  prisoner  in  the  presence  of  the  jury,  I  could 
not  help  saying  to  her  father, — 

"  In  truth,  I  am  not  at  all  indebted  to  Miss 
Jordan  for  the  result;  she  nearly  acquitted  the 
defendant." 

I  was  a  little  sorry  that  I  had  said  it,  for  she 
blushed  painfully.  Her  father,  I  thought,  was 
slightly  annoyed,  but  still  he  was  amused.  Miss 
Jordan,  however,  instantly  rallied,  and  said  with 
ever  so  much  dignity  and  modesty, — 

"  If  you  mean,  sir,  that  I  showed  my  belief 
that  the  young  gentleman  is  innocent,  I  can  only 
say  that  I  am  truly  sorry  that  I  could  not  have 
induced  the  judge  and  the  jury  to  see  it  as  I 
did." 

"  Do  you  really  think  that  the  accused  is  not 
guilty?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  sir,  of  course  I  do.  I  know  it.  I 
am  only  surprised  that  anybody  could  be  so  ob- 


I22    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

tuse  as  not  to  see  that  he  has  been  falsely  ac 
cused  and  improperly  convicted." 

There  was  a  slightly  malicious  and  vengeful 
light  in  her  pretty  eyes,  and  an  expression  which 
said  plainly  enough,  "  There,  sir,  for  your  impu 
dence  a  few  moments  ago ;"  but  I  only  thought 
of  it  for  an  instant,  as  I  was  intent  upon  a  pur 
pose  that  had  suddenly  found  itself  in  my  mind. 

I  have  a  profound  faith  in  woman's  intuition. 
Often  where  reason  ends  intuition  begins.  A 
clear-minded  and  pure-hearted  woman  will  fre 
quently  reach  an  absolutely  correct  conclusion 
in  an  instant  which  it  would  take  a  man  hours 
to  attain  by  the  slower  and  cruder  processes  of 
ratiocination.  Here  was  this  girl  whose  heart 
was  without  guile,  whose  mind  was  as  clear  as 
a  crystal,  unbiassed  by  prejudices  or  precon 
ceived  notions  concerning  the  rules  of  evidence 
and  all  that,  and  who  believed — knew,  as  she 
said — that  Luke  Wardleigh  was  not  guilty.  I 
determined  that  I  would  question  her  and  see 
if  she  could  trace  her  conclusions  back,  or,  in 
other  words,  could  give  the  reasons  for  her 
intuitive  belief.  This  may  seem  absurd,  but  it 
is  not.  Woman's  intuition  is  apparently  the  ne 
gation  of  the  processes  of  logic,  yet  it  is  doubt- 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 


123 


less  not  so.  It  is  only  that  her  mind  travels 
through  the  processes  more  rapidly.  Having 
reached  her  conclusion,  she  is  often  able  to 
reason  the  matter  out  by  a  reverse  method  and 
yet  clearly  and  logically. 

"  Miss  Jordan,"  said  I,  "  let  me  ask  you,  with' 
your  father's  permission,  to  tell  me  why  you 
think  Luke  Wardleigh  is  innocent  of  the  charge 
upon  which  he  has  been  tried  and  convicted." 

"  Why,  certainly,  Mr.  Grafton.  It  is  so  sim 
ple." 

She  thereupon  began  to  review  such  of  the 
evidence  as  she  had  heard  in  a  rapid,  earnest 
way.  There  was  a  depth  of  sympathy  in  the 
tone  of  her  voice  and  an  air  of  sincerity  in  her 
manner.  I  was  astonished  and  deeply  im 
pressed  by  what  she  said.  It  threw  an  entirely 
new  light  upon  the  case. 

"  I  would  like  to  add  a  word  to  what  my 
daughter  has  said,"  remarked  Mr.  Jordan.  "  I 
entirely  acquiesce  in  her  conclusions,  and,  to 
me,  her  reasons  are  convincing.  I  beg  to  sug 
gest,  in  addition,  that  character  should  have  its 
weight  and  influence.  I  understand  that  this 
young  man  is  the  son  of  the  late  Rev.  Jasper 
Wardleigh,  whose  untimely  and  tragic  death  so 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

profoundly  affected  the  Christian  people  of  this 
State  a  few  years  ago.  I  knew  him  well.  He 
was  a  grand  man.  Learning  that  this  young 
gentleman  was  the  son  of  my  old  friend,  I  made 
diligent  inquiries  as  to  his  standing.  He  bears 
a  reputation  above  reproach." 

"  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you,"  said  I,  rising, 
"  and  to  you  also,  Miss  Jordan,  for  this  visit. 
I  cannot  now  say  what  I  will  do,  but  I  feel  that 
you  will  be  pleased  when  I  tell  you  that  Mr. 
Wardleigh  will  not  be  sentenced  on  Monday 
as  announced.  The  matter  will  be  continued 
for  one  week,  and  in  the  mean  time  he  will  be 
released  on  bail." 

They  seemed  very  much  gratified,  and  were 
about  to  withdraw  when  it  occurred  to  me  to 
inquire  of  Miss  Jordan  whether  she  knew  Mrs. 
Farrington  and  Miss  Wardleigh  in  Berkeley. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  she,  with  a  bright,  lovely  smile 
and  a  look  that  said  as  plainly  as  words,  "  I  for 
give  you  everything."  "  No,  sir,  but  I  under 
stand  perfectly  what  you  wish,  and  I  will  see 
them  before  the  sun  goes  down." 

I  bowed  and  they  departed. 

Just  then  an  evening  paper  was  brought  in. 
As  I  glanced  over  it  I  caught  sight  of  a  special 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 


125 


despatch  from  Melton  which  greatly  interested 
me.  Leaving  out  the  sensational  head-lines  it 
read: 

"  Robert  Walton,  the  postmaster  at  this  place, 
was  brought  home  to-day  apparently  in  a  dying 
condition.  He  has  been  for  several  days  in 
attendance  on  the  United  States  Court  in  San 
Francisco  as  a  witness  in  the  case  of  the  United 
States  vs.  Luke  Wardleigh,  who  was  formerly 
his  deputy,  and  who  was  convicted  for  opening 
letters  and  stealing  money  therefrom. 

"  Mr.  Walton  has  been  in  excellent  health  for 
a  long  time,  but  on  the  train  yesterday  evening, 
just  after  leaving  Oakland,  he  was  suddenly 
attacked  by  what  appeared  to  be  heart-failure. 
At  Sacramento  he  was  removed  to  the  hotel, 
and  lay  in  an  unconscious  state  all  night.  This 
morning  he  was  brought  on  to  Melton  and  car 
ried  to  his  house. 

"  Mr.  Walton,  who  is  held  in  very  high  esteem 
in  this  community,  has  the  profound  sympathy 
of  all,  and  more  particularly  because  his  es 
teemed  wife  is  and  has  been  very  ill.  The 
friends  of  the  family  fear  the  effect  of  this  ter 
rible  blow  upon  her." 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE    COTTAGE   AT    BERKELEY 

I  EXPECTED  to  see  Lloyd  Farrington  at  the 
Palace  Hotel  that  evening,  and  I  looked  for  him 
anxiously,  but  he  did  not  appear. 

The  next  day,  Sunday,  without  any  defined 
purpose,  drawn  by  a  fascination  that  had  pos 
session  of  me,  I  took  the  boat  to  the  Oakland 
mole  and  the  connecting  train  to  Berkeley.  I 
walked  up  past  the  University  grounds  towards 
the  hills.  I  met  a  city  acquaintance,  whose 
home  I  knew  to  be  over  there.  He  greeted  me 
cordially  and  insisted  upon  my  walking  up  to  his 
place;  I  excused  myself,  promising  to  pay  him 
a  visit  at  some  future  time. 

"  The  truth  is,"  I  remarked,  "  I  am  anxious 
to  find  a  young  gentleman  whose  mother  lives 
somewhere  near  here, — Lloyd  Farrington;  per 
haps  you  may  know  him." 

"  I  know  him  slightly,  or  rather  I  did  several 

years  ago,"  he  replied.     "  His  mother,  one  of 

the  noblest  and  most  lovely  women  in  the  world, 

lives  in  that  pretty  cottage  just  there  in  the  street 

126 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 
• 

above.  But  you  will  not  find  her  son  at  her 
house.  They  have  been  estranged  for  a  long 
time,  though  there  is  a  story  that  they  have  been 
seen  together  at  Judge  Trem wick's,  whose  beau 
tiful  home  stands  at  the  end  of  this  street  be 
yond  those  spreading  live-oaks  that  you  see." 

I  at  once  recalled  the  circumstance  of  Far- 
rington's  enforced  and  unhappy  separation  from 
those  he  loved  by  reason  of  the  delusion  of  Ruth 
Wardleigh,  but  I  said  nothing  to  my  friend. 
I  thanked  him,  and  we  parted.  Passing  around 
into  the  next  street,  I  soon  stood  before  the 
cottage  that  he  had  pointed  out.  It  was  a  lovely 
place,  surrounded  by  a  garden  of  plants  and 
flowers.  I  recalled  Lloyd  Farrington's  descrip 
tion  of  his  home  and  happy  days  before  the  ter 
rible  tragedy  which  had  ruined  his  life.  I 
turned  and  looked  over  the  intervening  land 
scape  to  the  bay  which  lay  peacefully,  with  a 
silver  sheen  upon  it,  in  the  warm  sunlight.  Far 
out  to  the  west,  past  Yerba  Buena,  past  the  hills 
along  the  northern  shore  line  of  the  city,  past 
Alcatraz,  Black  Point,  the  Presidio,  and  the  op 
posite  heights  of  Sausalito,  the  Golden  Gate 
stretched  away  to  the  edge  of  the  ocean  mist 
that  obscured  the  horizon.  I  thought  that  from 


I2g    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

this  point  to  see  the  sun  set  in  the  narrow  strait 
must  be  beautiful  indeed,  as  Farrington  had 
said. 

I  rang  at  the  gate,  and  was  invited  to  enter 
by  an  elderly  woman  of  quiet  manners,  who  took 
my  card  and  showed  me  into  a  room  at  the  front 
of  the  house  to  the  right  of  the  central  hall. 

A  bay-window  on  the  south  side,  hung  with 
heavy  lace  curtains,  let  the  sunlight  through  the 
Venetian  blinds,  disclosing  cosy,  comfortable 
furniture,  harmonizing  in  color  with  the  warm 
tone  of  the  room;  a  soft  moquette  carpet  of  a 
light  hue  and  an  intricate  arabesque  pattern; 
a  single  chandelier  of  crystal  pendants  cut  in 
prisms  which  caught  and  reflected  the  light,  and 
the  whole  of  which  was  reproduced  in  the  bev 
elled  French  mirror  over  the  marble  mantel;  a 
couple  of  tall  standing  lamps  covered  with  bright 
shades;  a  number  of  cheerful  water  colors  of 
merit  on  the  walls,  which  were  covered  with 
embossed  paper  of  cream  and  gold;  an  upright 
piano  with  an  embroidered  cover;  music  and 
books  in  profusion,  with  numberless  articles  of 
vertu  and  artistic  bric-a-brac,  which  marked  the 
cottage  as  the  home  of  a  cultivated  woman. 

Mrs.  Farrington  entered.     She  met  me  with 


"  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY         I2o 

a  pleasant  cordiality  which  assured  me,  and  with 
a  graceful  motion  bade  me  to  a  seat. 

"  Though  I  have  never  had  the  honor,  madam, 
of  being  presented  to  you,"  said  I,  "  I  feel  that 
I  know  you.  A  few  years  ago  I  met  your  son 
Lloyd  in  Arizona  under  peculiar  circumstances, 
and  he  told  me  the  sad  story  of  his  life,  as  he 
called  it;  of  course  he  had  much  to  say  of  your 
self." 

"  Then,  Mr.  Grafton,  I  bid  you  doubly  wel 
come.  My  poor  boy  must  have  been  very  fond 
of  you,  because  he  is  usually  so  reticent.  Were 
he  here  now  he  would  be  delighted  to  see  you, 
not  only  on  account  of  his  past  acquaintance  but 
also  because  of  your  great  kindness  yesterday 
in  sending  us  a  message  which  brought  hope  to 
this  unhappy  home, — hope  that  had  flown." 

How  sweetly  sad  that  beautiful,  pale  face! 
Her  eyes  so  like  Lloyd's,  as  I  have  said,  were 
suffused  with  a  mist  just  ready  to  condense.  I 
looked  at  her  inquiringly,  for  I  did  not  know 
to  what  she  referred. 

"  Surely  I  am  not  mistaken ;    for  that  lovely 

girl,  Miss  Jordan,  told  me  what  occurred  in  your 

office  and  of  your  inquiry  regarding  us.     As  she 

said,  she  did  not  need  that  you  should  tell  her 

9 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

in  so  many  words  to  come  to  us ;  the  suggestion 
was  quite  clear  and  sufficient.  Dear  child,  she 
came,  and  we  straightway  took  her  into  our 
hearts, — Miss  Ruth  and  I.  You  should  have 
seen  them  together.  It  was  a  case  of  love  at 
first  sight." 

I  tried  to  express  my  appreciation  of  her  pleas 
ant  greeting,  and  then  said, — 

"  I  was  anxious  to  see  your  son  last  night, 
and  I  rather  expected  him  at  the  Palace  Hotel, 
but  he  did  not  come.  I  thought  that  perhaps 
I  might  find  him  by  coming  over  to  Berkeley." 

A  shadow  flitted  across  her  face  which  re 
minded  me  of  Lloyd's  self-imposed  banishment, 
and  I  added, — 

"  I  do  not  forget  his  story,  but  since  he  told 
it  to  me  three  years  ago  I  did  not  know  what 
change  might  have  occurred.  However,  I  now 
judge,  from  a  remark  made  to  me  by  an  ac 
quaintance  of  whom  I  asked  the  way  to  your 
house,  that  he  is  still  separated  from  you  and 
from  the  lady  whom  he  called  Ruth,  and  who 
is,  I  understand,  the  sister  of  the  unfortunate 
young  man,  Luke  Wardleigh.  Still,  I  should 
have  come  to  you  anyway  to  learn  of  his  where 
abouts.  For,  though  he  may  not  be  with  you, 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

I  am  quite  sure  that  you  can  always  tell  where 
he  is." 

"Ah,  sir,"  she  said,  with  a  tender,  motherly 
smile,  "  you  are  quite  right.  My  dear  boy  is 
never  out  of  my  sight,  in  a  sense  that  you  will 
understand.  Yes,  I  saw  him  less  than  an  hour 
ago  at  my  brother's,  at  whose  house  I  called 
after  church,  but  he  has  now  gone  to  Oakland 
to  remain  with  Luke  until  to-morrow.  I  doubt 
not  that  he  will  accompany  him  to  court  in  the 
morning  and  you  will  see  him  there."  She 
paused  a  moment,  and  then  said  in  a  sad  tone, 
"  My  poor  son !  If  he  were  not  the  bravest  of 
the  brave  he  would  break  down  under  this  new 
sorrow.  Except  for  an  hour  or  two  at  mid 
day  he  has  not  left  the  prison  since  Friday  night. 
It  happened  that  the  jailer  served  under  Lloyd 
at  one  time,  and  he  allows  him  to  remain  with 
his  friend." 

I  was  deeply  touched  by  this  new  evidence  of 
Farrington's  devotion.  I  could  not  trust  myself 
to  talk  of  him  further.  I  simply  said  that  it 
would  answer  to  see  him  the  next  day,  and  re 
quested  her  to  send  word  to  him  in  case  it  should 
not  be  his  purpose  to  accompany  Wardleigh. 
She  said  that  she  would  telephone  from  her 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 


brother's  house  to  the  jail,  as  Lloyd  had  ar 
ranged  that  she  might  do  if  she  should  wish  to 
communicate  with  him. 

"  I  presume,  madam,"  said  I,  with  some  hesi 
tation,  "  that  you  saw  the  account  which  ap 
peared  in  the  papers  this  morning  of  the  serious 
illness  of  Mr.  Walton,  the  postmaster  at  Mel 
ton,  who  is  the  brother-in-law,  as  I  understand, 
of  the  young  people  in  whom  you  and  your  son 
take  so  deep  an  interest?" 

I  had  an  object  in  asking  this  question,  but 
I  did  it  with  much  reluctance.  I  feared  that 
it  might  appear  to  this  woman,  for  whom  I  felt 
a  profound  respect,  and  to  Lloyd  when  he  should 
know  of  my  inquiry,  that  I  was  intruding  into 
family  matters  from  mere  curiosity.  I  hesi 
tated  the  more  when  I  reflected  that  from  the 
views  held  by  these  people  in  regard  to  the 
Wardleigh  case  I  had  done  them  great  injustice. 
However,  I  was  conscious  that  I  had  not  un 
wittingly  done  Luke  Wardleigh  any  wrong,  and 
I  felt  confident  that  neither  Lloyd  nor  his  friend 
nor  Mrs.  Farrington  laid  any  blame  upon  me.  If 
I  had  any  doubt  as  to  her  feelings  it  was  dis 
pelled  by  the  manner  of  her  reply. 

"  Yes,  sir,  we  saw  the  despatch  in  an  evening 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 


paper  on  Saturday  and  what  appeared  to  be  a 
reproduction  of  it  in  this  morning's  paper.  Miss 
Ruth  also  received  a  telegram  from  Melton  in 
reply  to  one  sent  to  a  friend  to  inquire  as  to 
Mr.  Walton's  condition.  He  is  very  low  and 
but  little  hope  of  his  recovery  is  entertained. 
Miss  Wardleigh  goes  to  Melton  to-night.  She 
is  very  anxious  in  regard  to  her  sister.  Luke 
will  join  her  as  soon  as  he  is  released." 

This  quite  astonished  me.  Somehow  I  had 
only  thought  of  Ruth  Wardleigh  as  an  unfor 
tunate  girl  whose  mind  was  seriously  affected. 
My  recollection  of  the  brief  sight  of  her  in  the 
commissioner's  office,  as  I  recalled  the  incident 
after  I  knew  who  she  was,  had  not  been  calcu 
lated  to  dispel  this  notion;  then  the  idea  of  her 
going  to  Melton  disarranged  my  plan.  My  ob 
ject  in  seeking  Lloyd  Farrington  was  to  induce 
him  to  go  to  Melton  to  make  certain  investiga 
tions.  What  would  be  the  consequence  if  he 
should  meet  Miss  Wardleigh?  I  recalled  the 
terrible  scene,  as  described  by  Lloyd  to  me,  when 
he  saw  her  after  the  tragedy;  I  said  nothing  of 
this,  however,  to  Mrs.  Farrington. 
"  Does  Miss  Wardleigh  travel  alone  ?" 
There  must  have  been  something  of  surprise 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

in  my  look  or  in  the  tone  of  my  voice  which 
disclosed  to  Mrs.  Farrington  what  was  passing 
in  my  mind  in  regard  to  Miss  Wardleigh's  con 
dition. 

"  Yes,  sir,  she  has  gone  to  Melton  vquite  a  num 
ber  of  times  by  herself  during  the  last  two  years, 
and  particularly  and  more  frequently  during  the 
past  four  months,  since  the  illness  of  her  sister 
Grace.  Luke  was  away  in  Arizona  for  a  long 
time,  and  recently  he  has  been  in  Melton,  as  you 
know,  so  that  he  could  escort  her,  though  it  was 
not  necessary  that  he  should  do  so."  Then  drop 
ping  her  voice  and  turning  her  head  slightly 
towards  the  door  leading  into  the  next  room, 
Mrs.  Farrington  continued,  "  I  judge  that  your 
idea  of  Miss  Wardleigh  is  formed  from  Lloyd's 
account  of  the  tragedy  six  years  ago;  but  since 
her  present  physician  and  our  dear  friend  Dr. 
Guthrie " 

"  Dr.  Guthrie  ?"  I  interrupted,  much  sur 
prised;  "he  is  my  brother-in-law." 

"Ah,  indeed,"  she  continued;  "I  am  de 
lighted  to  hear  it.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  he 
became  her  physician  five  years  ago,  and  since 
then  Ruth  has " 

At  that  moment  the   door  just  mentioned 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 


135 


opened  and  a  young  and  strikingly  beautiful 
woman  entered.  She  had  a  cloak  upon  her 
arm  and  a  travelling-bag  in  her  hand ;  she  paused 
a  moment  as  if  she  had  not  expected  to  see  a 
stranger.  I  arose,  and  Mrs.  Farrington  pre 
sented  me  to  Miss  Wardleigh.  I  did  not  know 
what  to  expect;  I  was  the  acquaintance,  and 
could  almost  claim  to  be  the  friend,  of  Lloyd 
Farrington.  Yet,  as  I  understood  her  mental 
state,  she  believed  him  to  be  the  murderer  of  her 
parents.  I  knew  her  brother,  but  I  had  just 
prosecuted  him  to  conviction  on  an  indictment 
for  a  felony,  and  she  without  doubt  believed  him 
to  be  innocent.  How,  then,  would  she  receive 
me?  All  this  flashed  through  my  mind  while 
I  bowed  as  I  was  presented.  I  concluded  from 
her  first  words  that  she  had  at  least  thought 
of  my  unpleasant  relations  to  her  brother,  for 
as  I  resumed  my  seat  and  she  sat  down  by  Mrs. 
Farrington  she  said, — 

"  You  are  not  a  stranger  to  us,  Mr.  Grafton ;" 
she  paused,  and  then  her  face  brightened  and 
she  said,  "  it  was  but  yesterday  that  the  sweetest 
girl  in  all  the  land  sang  your  praises  to  us." 
She  said  this  in  such  a  pleasant,  cordial  way 
that  I  was  embarrassed,  and  I  showed  it,  I  pre 
sume. 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

"At  what  time  did  the  doctor  say  that  he 
would  come  for  me,  dear?"  said  she,  turning 
with  a  pretty  caressing  movement  towards  Mrs. 
Farrington. 

"  He  did  not  name  the  hour,  but  said  that  he 
would  come  over  with  his  team  and  drive  you 
to  the  Sixteenth  Street  Station,  Oakland,  in  time 
for  the  three  o'clock  train;  he  should  be  here 
in  a  short  time." 

During  this  brief  conversation  I  had  an  op 
portunity  to  complete  my  observation  of  the 
graceful  and  lovely  woman  who  came  as  a 
revelation  to  me.  If  I  expected  to  see  the  girl 
afflicted  with  a  mad  delusion  I  was  certainly 
disappointed.  It  is  true  that  in  the  expression 
of  her  face  when  her  features  were  at  rest  there 
was  a  profound  sadness,  but  except  this  there 
was  nothing  about  her  to  suggest  the  tragic 
story  with  which  I  was  familiar.  Of  medium 
height,  or  slightly  under,  she  was  dressed  in  a 
closely-fitting  travelling-gown  of  gray  woollen 
stuff  and  a  small  pretty  bonnet  trimmed  to 
harmonize  with  the  suit.  She  wore  no  orna 
ments  except  a  small  gold  fob,  a  neat  pin  at  the 
throat  in  the  form  of  a  scroll,  and  two  perfect 
pearls  set  to  the  lobes  of  her  ears.  I  knew  that 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 


137 


she  was  then  about  twenty-three.  As  she 
crossed  the  room  there  was  that  grace  and  ease 
in  her  movements  which  came  from  social  cul 
ture.  However,  her  form  and  bearing  did  not 
first  attract  me.  It  was  he*r  exquisitely  beauti 
ful  face.  A  brunette,  with  dark-hazel  eyes,  and 
hair  that  would  have  been  black  but  for  the 
almost  auburn  tint  that  persisted  when  the  sun 
shone  upon  it.  Her  features  were  cut  in  a  deli 
cate  mould,  but  were  not  sharp.  The  strength 
of  her  face  lay  in  the  breadth  of  her  forehead 
and  in  the  depth  and  intellectual  light  of  her 
lovely  eyes.  Altogether  she  was  very  beautiful. 
I  could  not  help  wondering  whether  Lloyd  Far- 
rington  had  seen  her  in  all  these  years  of  their 
separation.  I  found  myself  hoping  for  his  sake 
that  he  had  not. 

The  door  bell  rang  and  Dr.  Guthrie  was  an 
nounced. 

Guthrie  was  not  only  my  brother-in-law  but 
my  confidential  friend.  I  shall  hereafter  have 
something  to  say  of  his  professional  skill  and 
standing.  In  appearance  he  was  not  above  five- 
and-thirty  years  of  age,  though  his  dark  hair 
was  quite  sprinkled  with  gray.  Of  middle 
height,  graceful,  a  high  intellectual  forehead, 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

strong  features,  a  moustache  as  black  as  ink, 
and  pleasant  brown  eyes,  he  was  always  sure 
to  attract  attention  wherever  he  went.  When 
he  spoke,  his  voice,  which  was  as  soft  as  the 
tone  of  a  harp,  vibrated  in  a  musical  key. 

"  Why,  Mark,  how  fortunate  I"  said  he  as 
he  entered,  greeting  the  ladies  with  a  pleasant, 
familiar  smile  which  showed  that  he  felt  quite 
at  home.  "  I  have  been  looking  for  you  at  the 
hotel.  I  left  a  note  at  the  office  saying  that  I 
would  call  to-night.  This  enables  me  to  make 
sure  that  I  shall  see  you,  for  as  Jeanette  is  away, 
I  did  not  know  but  "that  you  might  be  off  on  one 
of  your  Sunday  excursions." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  Harvey,  now  as  ever," 
said  I. 

"  It  is  always  an  agreeable  surprise  to  find 
that  our  friends  are  friends  of  each  other.  It 
is  doubly  so  to  learn  that  they  are  not  only 
friends,  but  near  relations,"  said  Mrs.  Farring- 
ton,  pleasantly,  and  Miss  Ruth  echoed  the  re 
mark.  The  doctor  did  not  sit  down,  which  indi 
cated  that  he  thought  it  time  to  start,  and  so  I 
took  my  leave,  promising  to  meet  him  in  the 
( evening. 


CHAPTER    XII 

DR.    HARVEY   GUTHRIE 

HARVEY  GUTHRIE  was  a  physician  and  sur 
geon  of  rare  skill,  who  had  come  to  San  Fran 
cisco  from  the  East  some  ten  years  before  and 
at  once  taken  a  leading  position  in  the  pro 
fession.  A  public-spirited  and  exemplary 
citizen,  he  was  highly  esteemed  in  the  com 
munity. 

While  his  practice  was  general  he  had  an 
exceptional  reputation  in  the  treatment  of  dis 
eases  of  the  brain, — mental  disorders.  He  was 
the  author  of  a  work  on  the  "  Curability  of  Cer 
tain  Phases  of  Insanity,"  which  had  already 
won  him  a  reputation  at  home  and  in  Europe. 
In  this  branch  of  medical  science  he  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  profession  on  the  coast,  and  was 
frequently  called  to  testify  as  an  expert.  It  was 
thus  that  I  first  met  him,  some  four  years  be 
fore,  when  he  was  a  witness  in  the  famous  Not 
tingham  Will  Case.  Many  will  still  remember 
that  remarkable  litigation.  Old  Nottingham 

139 


I40    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

died  worth  a  quarter  of  a  million.  The  fortune 
had  come  to  him  through  the  rise  in  value  of 
lands  which  he  had  bought  for  a  song  in  early 
days.  He  had  never  married,  but  had  a  wid 
owed  sister,  who  had  cared  for  him  through 
much  sickness,  and  two  lovely  nieces,  daughters 
of  a  deceased  brother.  Before  his  death  he  had 
been  very  eccentric  and  had  constantly  mani 
fested  a  bitter  hatred  towards  these  relatives. 
He  had  a  religious  mania,  withal,  and  lived  in 
fear  of  hell.  So,  to  propitiate  the  Almighty, 
as  he  declared,  he  left  his  entire  fortune  to  a 
foreign  mission  society  of  the  church  which  he 
attended.  His  legal  heirs,  his  sister  and  nieces, 
were  left  destitute.  In  their  behalf  I  contested 
the  will.  It  was  valid  unless  I  could  establish 
his  insanity.  I  had  the  church  influence  against 
me.  A  half-score  of  physicians,  in  reply  to  the 
usual  hypothetical  questions,  swore  to  his  per 
fect  sanity.  I  had  a  good  deal  of  direct  evidence 
as  to  his  crazy  antics,  but  I  was  woefully  defi 
cient  in  expert  testimony.  However,  during  the 
progress  of  the  trial,  which  attracted  public  at 
tention,  Dr.  Guthrie  called  upon  me  and  made 
himself  known.  To  my  surprise  and  delight  he 
informed  me  that  for  a  year  preceding  Notting- 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY          J4I 

ham's  death  he  had  been  studying  his  case  as 
an  instance  of  obscure  mental  disorder  amount 
ing  in  his  judgment  to  insanity. 

"  Heavens,"  said  I,  "  how  unfortunate  for 
these  worthy  ladies  whom  I  represent !  Having 
been  the  physician  of  the  deceased,  the  law  does 
not  permit  you  to  testify."  His  face  flushed, 
and  I  saw  that  I  had  offended  him. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  sir,  in  your  supposition. 
I  was  not  Mr.  Nottingham's  physician,  or  I 
should  not  have  been  here.  I  was  never  con 
sulted  by  him.  My  study  was  purely  in  the 
interest  of  my  science." 

"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons !"  I  exclaimed. 
"  I  was  so  absorbed  in  this  suit  that  I  did  not 
stop  to  think." 

He  knew  that  I  was  sincere,  and  we  became 
fast  friends.  He  saved  my  case.  His  evidence 
was  most  interesting  and  conclusive.  He  spoke, 
not  hypothetical ly,  but  from  close,  persistent  ob 
servation.  He  carried  conviction.  Then  when 
I  came  to  argue  the  matter  I  had  the  advantage 
of  his  splendid  library  and  his  discriminating 
selection  of  illustrative  cases.  The  will  was  set 
aside  and  the  heirs  inherited, — the  sister  one- 
half  and  the  nieces  the  other.  The  aunt  after- 


I42         THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

wards  died  and  the  two  girls  succeeded  to  the 
whole  property. 

I  have  mentioned  these  particulars  not  be 
cause  of  their  particular  bearing  on  the  story 
I  am  relating,  but  to  bring  the  character  and 
skill  of  Dr.  Guthrie  into  relief.  And,  too,  I 
wish  to  emphasize  my  obligations  to  him.  I 
was  a  confirmed  bachelor  four  years  ago,  and 
now  I  have  the  most  devoted  and  lovely  wife  in 
the  world.  She  was  Jeanette  Nottingham. 

"  What,"  said  my  wife,  when  I  read  the  first 
draft  of  this  chapter  over  to  her,  "  do  you  mean 
to  say  that  you  would  not  have  married  me  if 
Dr.  Guthrie  had  not  made  it  possible  for  you 
to  win  our  case?"  Her  temper  began  to  rise  a 
little  as  she  added  with  considerable  asperity, 
"  Well,  whatever  motive  you  had,  I  surely  did 
not  marry  you  for  your  fortune."  I  was  a  little 
embarrassed  at  first,  but  I  replied  cautiously, — 

"  I  certainly  did  not  mean  to  convey  any  such 
idea.  I  meant  that  if  I  had  lost  the  case  you 
would  not  have  married  me." 

"  I  believe  that  you  are  right,"  she  admitted. 
"  If  you  had  let  those  people  defeat  us  I  should 
have  had  no  confidence  in  nor  respect  for  you, 
and  I  should  not  have  loved  you.  Though  love 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

may  continue — persist,  after  confidence  and  re 
spect  have  ceased,  I  doubt  if  it  ever  arises  where 
there  is  already  a  lack  of  respect  and  a  want  of 
confidence."  How  much  further  this  discussion 
might  have  continued  I  do  not  know  had  not 
baby  Mark,  who  had  been  asleep  in  the  adjoining 
room,  just  then  awakened  and  compelled  his 
mother  to  come  to  him. 

Through  me  Dr.  Guthrie  met  Jeanette's  sister 
Marie,  a  splendid  little  woman;  they  loved  and 
married.  It  was  thus  that  our  relationship  had 
been  brought  about. 

In  the  evening  Dr.  Guthrie  came  to  the  hotel 
and  to  my  room,  where  I  was  alone.  I  did  not 
see  him  Friday  night  when  he  arrived  from  the 
East,  where  he  had  been  to  attend  the  annual 
meeting  of  the  National  Medical  Society.  On 
Saturday  I  had  seen  him  for  a  few  moments  at 
the  Bohemian  Club.  I  had  not  the  faintest  sus 
picion  that  he  knew  the  people  in  whom  I  had 
lately  become  so  interested. 

"Well,  Harvey,  did  you  see,  your  patient 
safely  off?"  I  inquired  by  way  of  introduction 
to  the  subject  which  he  had  come  to  discuss,  as 
I  thought. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  she  is  a  good  traveller  and  will  be 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

safely  at  Melton  at  an  early  hour  to-night;  she 
will  have  friends  to  meet  her." 

"  How  odd,"  said  I,  handing  him  a  cigar, 
"that  I  should  have  known  the  strange  story 
of  this  girl  for  three  years,  during  which  time 
you  have  been  her  physician,  and  yet  you  did 
not  know  that  I  had  heard  of  her  and  I  did  not 
know  that  you  knew  her !  After  all,  it  is  not  so 
strange,  for  I  only  heard  the  story  from  Lloyd 
Farrington  as  a  personal  reminiscence  during  a 
night's  ride  on  a  stage,  and  had  all  but  forgotten 
it  until  I  saw  him  again  a  few  days  ago." 

"  Poor  Lloyd !  The  mention  of  his  name  al 
most  brings  the  tears  to  my  eyes,"  mused  the 
doctor,  as  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  sent  a 
whiff  of  blue  smoke  curling  upward. 

"  Oh,  you  know  Farrington,  then  ?"  I  in 
quired. 

"  Of  course,"  said  he.  "  I  am  his  mother's 
physician,  and  for  five  years,  with  his  knowl 
edge,  I  have  attended  Ruth  Wardleigh,  who, 
after  his  mother,  is  all  the  world  to  him.  How 
ever,  having  made  that  statement  in  connection 
with  the  use  of  his  name,  I  should  add  that  my 
charges  have  always  been  paid  by  her  brother 
Luke.  They  have  not  been  very  large."  After 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY 


145 


a  pause  of  some  minutes,  in  which  we  smoiced 
and  were  doubtless  both  wool-gathering,  he  said, 
abruptly,  "  It  was  concerning  young  Wardleigh 
that  I  sought  to  see  you  to-day  and  that  I  am 
here  to-night." 

I  confess  that  I  was  disappointed.  I  don't 
know  why,  but  somehow  I  thought  that  he 
wanted  to  talk  to  me  about  his  patient;  I  as 
sumed  as  much  when  I  introduced  the  conver 
sation  regarding  her,  but  I  said  nothing. 

"  When  I  went  East,"  he  continued,  "  a 
month  ago,  I  had  heard  nothing  of  his  troubles, 
if  indeed  they  had  begun.  I  returned  Friday 
night,  as  you  know,  but  until  yesterday  I  had 
no  idea  that  you  had  consigned  poor  Luke  to 
jail.  At  lunch  Marie  asked  me  if  I  knew  the 
first  name  of  young  Wardleigh,  of  whom  I  had 
spoken  in  talking  of  his  sister's  strange  case. 
When  I  told  her,  she  brought  me  the  papers  con 
taining  the  account  of  the  trial,  which  she  had 
saved,  and  I  saw  that  a  second  terrible  calamity 
had  fallen  upon  the  members  of  these  two  fami 
lies  in  whom  I  have  taken  so  deep  an  interest. 
I  immediately  started  for  Berkeley.  I  had  rea 
sons  for  entertaining  the  most  serious  appre 
hensions.  I  dreaded  beyond  expression  to  see 

10 


I46    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

my  patient.  I  did  not  know  but  that  I  might  find 
her  demented, — I  almost  expected  it.  Judge  of 
my  delight  when  I  found  her  in  perfect  health 
and  her  mind  unaffected." 

"  But  was  she  not  deeply  distressed  by  her 
brother's  disgrace  ?"  I  asked.  "  I  saw  her  for  a 
few  moments  when  he  was  arrested.  She  came 
to  the  commissioner's  office  accompanied  by  Mrs. 
Farrington  and  Judge  Tremwick,  and  though 
she  was  veiled  she  appeared  to  be  greatly  excited 
and  grieved." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  I  was  told  of 
that  circumstance,  and  I  see  now  that  that  ter 
rible  morning  after  she  saw  the  account  of 
Luke's  arrest  in  the  papers  was  the  critical  time 
with  her.  It  was  careless  on  the  part  of  Luke 
to  have  allowed  her  to  be  shocked  in  that  way. 
But  he  relied  upon  Kenton  to  keep  the  fact  of 
his  arrest  out  of  the  papers  until  he  could  see 
her  or  communicate  with  her.  However,  from 
that  day,  it  seems,  she  recovered  her  spirits,  and 
up  to  the  time  of  Luke's  conviction  on  Friday 
she  rested  in  the  confidence  which  he  and  Ken- 
ton  had  inspired,  that  Luke  would  be  trium 
phantly  vindicated.  Even  after  the  verdict, 
though  she  was  much  affected  and  greatly  wor- 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

ried,  still  her  perfect  confidence  in  Luke  re 
mained,  and  her  buoyant  hopeful  nature  carried 
her  through  the  crisis.  While  I  was  there  yes 
terday,  for  I  remained  quite  late,  a  young  lady, 
Miss  Jordan,  came  from  you  with  a  message  of 
hope." 

"  Well,  hardly  that,"  said  I ;  "  I  sent  no  mes 
sage  at  all.  I  simply  inquired  if  she  knew  Miss 
Wardleigh  and  Mrs.  Farrington.  Of  course  I 
intended  to  suggest  that  she  should  see  them 
and  convey  the  information,  which  I  had  given 
her,  that  I  would  not  move  for  sentence  upon 
Luke  Wardleigh  to-morrow.  It  seems  that  she 
went  further  than  I  intended." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  Mark ;  I  rather 
think  that  you  meant  all  that  she  said."  He 
laughed  in  his  soft,  musical  way  at  the  turn  he 
had  given  the  expression,  and  continued,  "  This 
brings  me  again  to  the  object  of  my  visit  to 
you.  It  was  to  tell  you  that  I  am  morally  cer 
tain  that  young  Wardleigh  is  entirely  innocent 
of  the  charge  brought  against  him  and  upon 
which  you  have  convicted  him." 

"  My  dear  Harvey,"  said  I,  with  a  laugh  that 
I  intended  to  appear  cynical,  "your  assurance 
is  only  equalled  by  that  of  Miss  Edith  Jordan, 


I48    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

who  is  in  love  with  him,  I  imagine.  Your  logic 
is  not  unlike  hers.  Why,  what  do  you  know 
about  the  case?  The  evidence  against  him  was 
overwhelming." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  for  your  evidence,"  he  in 
terrupted,  irreverently.  "If  you  will  remem 
ber,  the  good  church  people  had  produced  over 
whelming  evidence  of  the  sanity  of  our  late 
respected  Uncle-in-law  Rufus  Nottingham  until 
we  put  our  heads  together,  which  is  what  I 
propose  to  do  now."  He  paused  for  a  little 
time,  and  then  continued,  in  a  voice  thrilling 
and  vibrant,  "  Let  us  save  an  innocent  man  from 
prison  and  Lloyd  Farrington,  his  mother,  and 
Miss  Wardleigh  from  despair.  Nay,  more: 
save  Miss  Ruth  from  insanity."  He  ceased.  I 
was  too  deeply  affected  by  what  he  had  said  and 
by  the  thoughts  which  were  suggested  by  his 
words  to  speak.  Presently  he  continued,  "  You 
asked  me  a  moment  ago  what  I  know  about  the 
Wardleigh  case.  Nothing,  as  you  lawyers  esti 
mate  proof,  since  what  I  know  is  merely  hear 
say.  But  let  me  ask  you,  What  do  you  know 
about  it?  You  say  that  the  evidence  against 
Wardleigh  was  overwhelming.  What  kind  of 
evidence?  Circumstantial,  if  I  read  the  news- 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 


paper  accounts  correctly.  Yet  circumstances 
are  great  liars,  at  least  when  taken  singly,  or 
even  in  pairs.  I  believe  that  I  heard  you  say 
in  your  argument  when  you  defended  and  se 
cured  the  acquittal  of  Barclay  Johnson,  just  be 
fore  you  became  United  States  attorney  (I  was 
a  witness,  you  will  remember,  to  show  that  his 
wife  might  not  have  died  of  poison),  'that  in 
order  to  convict  on  circumstantial  evidence  not 
only  must  every  fact  proven  be  consistent  with 
the  theory  of  the  guilt  of  the  accused,  but  also 
inconsistent  with  every  possible  theory  of  inno 
cence.'  Very  well.  Let  us  apply  that  rule  to 
this  case.  I  offer  you  a  fact  —  two  facts  —  abso 
lutely  inconsistent  with  the  theory  of  Luke 
.Wardleigh's  guilt." 

"  All  right,  my  dear  doctor,"  said  I  ;  "  what 
are  your  facts?" 

"  First,  Luke  Wardleigh's  character  ;  second, 
his  assurance  to  his  sister  and  to  his  friend  Lloyd 
Farrington,  to  neither  of  whom  did  he  ever  tell  a 
lie,  that  he  did  not  commit  the  crime."  I 
laughed,  but  not  in  a  way  to  offend  him. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  I,  assuming  a  fatherly 
tone,  for  I  could  not  allow  him  to  instruct  me 
in  my  profession,  "  the  law  would  have  small 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

chance  if  the  word  of  the  accused  or  his  good 
character  could  be  allowed  to  outweigh  all  of 
the  evidence  against  him.  Of  course  character 
is  a  fact  to  be  taken  into  consideration  by  the 
jury;  and  the  defendant  (whether  wisely  I 
question)  is  allowed  to  testify  in  his  own  behalf. 
All  such  evidence,  however,  must  be  scrutinized 
and  weighed  with " 

"  Oh,  bother !"  said  my  brother-in-law,  with 
that  familiarity  which  he  seemed  to  think  his 
relationship  warranted.  "  I  don't  care  a  penny 
weight  of  pellets  for  your  rules  of  evidence;" 
forgetting  that  he  had  just  attempted  to  convince 
me  by  applying  one  that  he  had  crudely  quoted 
from  one  of  my  arguments.  However,  I 
laughed  good-naturedly  and  said, — 

"  Harvey,  I  won't  comment  on  your  incon 
sistency,  but  I  will  suggest  that  you  would  do 
better  to  follow  Miss  Edith  Jordan's  theory." 

"  What  is  that  ?"  he  inquired,  showing  an 
immediate  and  keen  interest. 

I  then  related  to  him  all  that  had  occurred  the 
day  before  when  Miss  Jordan  and  her  father 
called  at  my  office. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  said  he,  jumping  up  ex 
citedly,  "  it  is  as  plain  as  a  carbuncle.  That 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

little  girl's  intuition  is  worth  more  than  all  of 
Pinkerton's  detectives.  And  now,  my  dear 
Mark,  tell  me  what  you  are  going  to  do." 

"  I  am  going  to  institute  an  investigation," 
said  I. 

"  Investigation !  Why,  what  do  you  want  to 
investigate?"  said  he,  with  astonishment  and 
disgust. 

I  explained ;  and  he  cooled  down  a  good  deal 
and  seemed  to  have  a  little  more  respect  for  my 
legal  sense,  so  to  speak. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  assuming  that  it  all  conies 
out  as  I  confidently  expect  and  as  you  earnestly 
hope,  what  then?" 

I  made  a  further  explanation,  which  was  in 
the  nature  of  a  promise  as  well  to  myself  as  to 
him.  When  I  had  finished  he  sat  perfectly  quiet 
for  a  time,  and  I  could  see  by  the  lines  of  intense 
concentration  on  his  face  that  he  was  trying  to 
solve  some  difficult  problem.  I  waited.  He 
suddenly  glanced  up,  and  I  saw  in  his  eyes, 
which  shone  with  the  fire  of  genius,  suppressed 
excitement  and  a  look  of  joy  and  triumph.  He 
was  still  silent.  I  grew  anxious, — impatient. 

"  What  is  it  ?"   I  asked,  disconnectedly 

"  I  have  found  the  solution  that  I  have  sought 


It>2         THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

for  five  years,"  he  replied,  in  a  low  deliberate 
tone  that  sounded  like  the  vibration  of  a  musical 
reed,  and  which  thrilled  me.  "  I  will  now  be 
able  to  restore  Ruth  Wardleigh  to  her  normal 
mental  state;  to  cure  her  absolutely.  Think, 
Mark,  think  what  it  means  to  two  lives, — to  two 
souls.  You  know  something  of  Lloyd  Farring- 
ton's  agony  and  despair;  it  is  not  half  the  story. 
Ruth  Wardleigh  has  never  ceased  to  love  him, 
though  her  mind,  at  least  in  her  waking  state, 
is  now  blank  as  to  his  existence.  I  must  tell 
you  the  whole  of  my  strange  experience  while 
studying  this  remarkable  case." 

I  became  intently  interested  and  prepared  to 
listen,  but  rising,  he  said, — 

"  Not  to-night ;  I  want  to  think.  When  does 
Jeanette  return  from  Santa  Barbara?" 

I  was  disappointed,  but  I  knew  him  too  well 
to  insist;  I  answered  his  question  without  al 
lowing  him  to  see  my  chagrin, — 

"  She  will  return  the  day  after  to-morrow.  I 
had  a  wire  yesterday." 

"  Dine  with  Marie  and  me  to-morrow,  and  as 
she  is  going  with  some  friends  to  hear  a  lecture, 
we  can  have  the  evening  to  ourselves." 

"  Very  well,"  said  I.  Then  he  bade  me  good 
night  and  withdrew. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

IN   THE   SHADOW   OF  DEATH 

AFTER  the  doctor  left — it  was  about  half-past 
ten — I  tried  to  read,  but  could  not  bring  my 
thoughts  to  the  book.  The  incidents  which  had 
crowded  into  the  past  forty-eight  hours,  in  con 
nection  with  Luke  Wardleigh's  conviction  and 
the  renewal  of  my  acquaintance  with  Farring- 
ton,  kept  coming  up  before  me.  Farrington's 
appeal  to  me  and  my  refusal  of  his  request;  his 
passionate  assertion  that  Wardleigh  was  guilt 
less  ;  my  learning  of  the  identity  of  the  prisoner 
with  the  brave  fellow  who  had  saved  Farring 
ton's  life;  our  adventure  Friday  night;  my  in 
vestigation  and  interview  with  the  Jordans ;  my 
visit  to  Berkeley  and  surprise  at  the  appearance 
of  Ruth  Wardleigh,  and  now  Guthrie's  mys 
terious  talk.  I  was  fairly  bewildered.  I  must 
have  sat  an  hour  thinking  it  over  in  a  confused 
way  when  a  call-boy  knocked  and  brought  me 
a  card.  It  bore  the  name  of  Lloyd  Farrington. 
A  few  moments  later  he  entered.  He  returned 
my  salutation  in  a  manner  that  showed  that  he 

153 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

was  pleased,  but  there  was  an  anxious,  worried 
look  on  his  face, — something  more  than  his  ha 
bitual  sadness.  He  did  not  sit  down,  though  I 
had  urged  him  to  do  so. 

"  My  mother,"  said  he,  "  telephoned  me  from 
my  uncle's  that  you  were  over  and  looking  for 
me,  and  that  you  would  expect  to  see  me  at  court 
to-morrow.  I  would  not  have  disturbed  you  to 
night  but  for  an  occurrence  of  great  importance. 
She  also  said  that  you  had  met  Dr.  Guthrie  and 
that  he  was  to  see  you  to-night.  I  thought  to 
find  him  here." 

"  He  left  about  an  hour  ago,"  said  I,  "  and 
has  gone  home.  It  is  quite  a  distance  out  to  his 
house,  and  if  you  wish  to  talk  to  him  you  will 
find  a  telephone  in  the  room  across  the  alcove. 
Mrs.  Grafton  is  away  and  you  will  not  disturb 
any  one." 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "  Do 
you  know  that  I  had  quite  forgotten  until  this 
evening  that  you  and  Dr.  Guthrie  are  married 
to  sisters,  although  I  now  remember  to  have  read 
a  little  romance  concerning  you, — the  story  of 
the  Nottingham  will.  Excuse  my  referring  to 
the  matter ;  I  do  so  only  to  ask  you  whether  the 
doctor  has  talked  to  you  about  Miss  Wardleigh's 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 


155 


condition, — mental  condition?"  He  still  stood, 
which  led  me  to  think  that  his  inquiry  had  some 
relation  to  the  object  of  his  search  for  the  doctor 
that  night. ''. 

"  Curiously  enough,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  re 
marked  the  fact  while  talking  with  the  doctor 
an  hour  or  so  ago,  I  did  not  know  that  he  was 
her  physician  or  that  he  knew  you  until  to-day 
at  your  mother's;  still,  it  is  not  strange,  for 
though  our  social  and  personal  relations  are  so 
close,  our  professional  lines  trend  in  almost  op 
posite  directions.  This  evening,"  I  continued, 
"  we  had  a  most  interesting  conversation  regard 
ing  the  matter  of  which  you  speak ;  he  knew  that 
you  had  told  me  the  painfully  sad  origin  of  her 
mental  disorder."  I  paused ;  we  were  both  silent 
for  a  moment.  I  was  thinking  whether  I  ought 
to  tell  him  that  Guthrie  had  said  that  he  saw  the 
possibility  of  effecting  a  permanent  cure, — of 
restoring  to  him  the  woman  he  loved  so  faith 
fully,  so  tenderly,  and  so  passionately.  But  I 
said  to  myself  that  however  much  I  might  like 
to  fill  his  heart  with  this  new  hope,  I  had  no 
right  to  divulge  the  doctor's  confidential  com 
munication  to  me;  and  then  I  remembered  that 
he  had  uttered  the  exclamation  in  connection 


!56         THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

with  something  that  he  thought  I  might  be  able 
to  do  in  the  Wardleigh  case, — perhaps  all  that 
might  fail.  I  concluded  to  say  nothing  to  him 
about  Harvey's  vague  suggestion.  These 
thoughts  occupied  but  an  instant,  when  Lloyd 
said,  abruptly,  as  if  he  had  suddenly  come  to  a 
conclusion, — 

"  Mr.  Grafton,  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  lay  this 
matter  before  you."  As  he  said  this  he  took  a 
telegram  from  his  pocket.  "  I  must  also  of 
course  communicate  with  Dr.  Guthrie,  since  it 
involves  the  sanity,  the  life,  perhaps,  of  one 
whom  he  is  attending  professionally  and  who 
is  more  to  me  than  my  own  life.  I  feel,  sir,  that 
you  are  my  friend.  You  have  become  so  inti 
mately  connected  with  the  strange  drama  now 
so  rapidly  moving  to  a  crisis  that  I  would  not 
be  justified  in  acting  towards  you  with  reserve." 
He  threw  off  his  overcoat,  laid  aside  his  hat, 
and  sat  down  in  the  chair  which  I  had  offered 
him.  I  took  the  message  which  he  handed  me 
and  read  it.  It  was  dated  at  Melton  and  ap 
peared  to  have  been  received  at  Oakland  at  half- 
past  nine  that  evening.  It  was  addressed  to 
Luke  Wardleigh  at  the  county  jail,  and  in 
formed  him  that  Robert  Walton  had  died  at 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 


157, 


seven  o'clock ;  that  his  sister,  Mrs.  Walton,  was 
very  weak,  and  that  the  sender  would  meet  Miss 
Ruth  at  the  train.  It  was  signed,  "  J.  T.  Willis, 
M.D." 

"  My  God !"  I  exclaimed,  excitedly  rising. 
"  If  I  could  only  obtain  the  release  of  your  un 
fortunate  friend  to-night  he  might  take  the  early 
train  and  be  with  his  sisters  in  the  morning ;  but 
I  am  powerless.  The  order  to  admit  him  to  bail 
after  conviction  can  be  made  only  in  open  court." 

"  I  understand  that  quite  well,"  said  Lloyd, 
sadly,  "  and  so  does  Luke.  He  does  not  expect 
it.  He  is  brave  and  patient, — as  he  well  needs 
to  be.  Think  of  it,  dear  sir;  his  twin  sister, 
whom  he  loves  with  an  affection  born  of  that 
relation,  lying  dangerously  ill,  with  the  shadow 
of  death  hanging  over  her;  his  elder  sister, 
whom  he  also  loves  devotedly,  who  was  once 
driven  partially  insane  by  a  terrible  grief  pre 
cipitated  by  an  overwhelming  tragedy,  about  to 
enter  the  stricken  home,  perhaps  to  be  prostrated, 
shattered  in  mind  again.  Merciful  God!"  he 
exclaimed,  while  the  tears  fell  from  his  eyes  and 
I  myself  was  scarcely  less  affected.  "  My  own 
sorrow  is  greater,  almost  greater  than  I  can 
bear,  but  it  sinks  into  insignificance  beside  the 


I58    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

anguish  of  my  poor  friend."  He  paused  a  mo 
ment,  then  turning  to  me,  he  added  with  manly 
dignity,  "  I  do  not  hesitate,  Mr.  Grafton,  to  ask 
you  for  advice.  My  mind  is  clouded  and  I  can 
not  see  clearly."  Thus  appealed  to  by  this 
young  man  whom  I  respected  and  esteemed  so 
highly,  I  at  once  pulled  myself  together,  and 
after  a  moment's  reflection  said, — 

"Your  first  impulse  to  see  Dr.  Guthrie  was 
correct.  Call  him  up  and  talk  with  him  at  once 
and  then  I  will  consider  with  you  what  we  will 
do,  subject  to  his  approval." 

I  stepped  across  the  alcove  with  him,  lighted 
the  gas,  and,  going  to  the  telephone,  switched 
to  the  doctor's  private  wire  and  rang  him  up. 
This  cut  the  "  central"  out  and  gave  absolute 
privacy. 

"  Hello!    Harvey,  is  that  you?" 

"Yes,  Mark;   anything  the  matter?" 

"  No,  at  least  not  with  me.  Lloyd  Farring- 
ton  is  over.  He  has  some  important  news  and 
wants  to  talk  with  you." 

"  Good.  I  have  something  important,  too.  I 
was  thinking  of  trying  to  get  him  in  Oakland. 
Tell  him  to  come  to  the  'phone." 

"  He  says,"  said  I,  turning  to  Farrington, 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 


159 


"  that  he  has  news  for  you,  and  I  judge  from 
the  tone  of  his  voice  that  it  is  not  bad  news." 

I  handed  him  the  receiver  and  was  about  to 
leave  the  room,  when  he  said  that  he  had  no  se 
crets  from  me  and  asked  me  to  remain.  He 
placed  the  receiver  to  his  ear  and  an  amused 
smile  flitted  for  a  moment  across  his  face. 

"  I  must  have  talked  close  to  the  transmitter," 
he  remarked,  "  for  he  heard  me.  He  says  that 
you  are  to  hear  everything." 

There  was  then  a  long  and  earnest  conversa 
tion  over  the  wire,  and  when  they  had  finished 
and  the  connection  was  cut  off,  we  returned  to 
the  room  in  which  we  had  been  sitting.  I  of 
fered  Lloyd  a  cigar,  which  he  took  and  lighted 
mechanically.  He  had  a  far-away  look,  but  it 
was  less  anxious. 

"  Dr.  Guthrie  is  wonderfully  thoughtful,"  said 
he,  seating  himself.  I  assented,  though  I  did 
not  see  the  connection  until  he  continued,  "  It 
seems  that  he  wrote  Dr.  Willis,  whom  he  knows 
and  in  whom  he  has  confidence,  last  night,  tell 
ing  him  of  Ruth's  condition  and  instructing  him 
specifically  what  to  do  should  Mr.  Walton  die 
before  her  arrival.  He  had  just  received  a  full 
telegraphic  report  from  Willis,  which  he  read 


!6o         THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

to  me  over  the  wire.  Mrs.  Walton  had  rallied 
somewhat,  and  there  is  no  immediate  danger  of 
her  death.  Ruth  arrived  and  Willis  met  her. 
She  was  informed,  in  the  manner  directed  by 
Dr.  Guthrie,  and  while  she  was  deeply  grieved 
there  was  no  paroxysm.  The  doctor  is  now  well 
satisfied  that  the  danger  is  past,  and  that  there 
will  be  no  ill  effects.  A  weight  as  of  stone  is 
lifted  from  my  heart."  He  sighed  as  if  it  were 
literally  so. 

"  And  now,  Farrington,"  said  I,  "  as  this  anxi 
ety  is  removed,  suppose  that  we  talk  a  moment 
about  another  matter." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,"  he  replied. 

"  You  will  pardon  my  asking  you,"  I  con 
tinued,  "  if  there  is  any  objection  to  your  going 
to  Melton  to-morrow,  now  that  Miss  Ward- 
leigh  is  there?"  The  profoundly  sad  expression 
which  I  had  so  often  noticed  came  over  his  face. 
He  did  not  answer  me  at  once  and  seemed  to  be 
recalling  some  scene  in  the  past. 

"  I  understand  your  inquiry  to  be,"  said  he, 
"  whether  there  would  be  any  danger  to  Miss 
Wardleigh  if  I  should  meet  her?  I  do  not  know, 
but  I  think  not.  However,  I  should  be  guided 
by  the  advice  and  instructions  of  Dr.  Guthrie." 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

*'  Oh,  certainly,"  said  I.  "  I  should  not  think 
of  asking  you  to  do  anything  that  might  affect 
his  patient  without  consulting  him.  Suppose 
that  I  call  him  up  again  so  that  you  can  in 
quire  ?" 

"  Very  well,"  he  assented;  "  but  first  tell  me 
what  you  wish  me  to  do  at  Melton?" 

I  then  went  over  certain  phases  of  the  Ward- 
leigh  case  and  explained  to  him  the  importance 
of  ascertaining  some  additional  facts.  This  in 
vestigation  I  was  anxious  that  he  should  under 
take  for  two  reasons :  being  a  special  agent  of 
the  department  of  justice,  I  felt  that  he  could 
act  officially;  and  as  the  friend  of  Wardleigh,  I 
knew  that  he  would  pursue  the  matter  with  en 
ergy  and  celerity.  He  became  interested  and 
enthusiastic  at  once,  and  said  that  he  would  go 
on  the  first  train  in  the  morning  unless  Dr. 
Guthrie  saw  some  objection.  "  Really,"  said  he, 
after  reflecting  a  moment,  "  I  think  that  there 
is  very  little  probability  of  my  meeting  Ruth. 
I  shall  have  no  occasion  to  go  where  she  will 
be.  I  did  not  know  Walton,  and  Mrs.  Walton 
is  too  ill  to  permit  my  calling  on  her.  I  should 
not  go  to  the  funeral." 

"  Pardon  me  the  suggestion,"  said  I,  "  that 
ii 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

you  should  pursue  the  inquiries  which  you  are 
to  make  entirely  independent  of  Luke  Ward- 
leigh  and  without  his  knowledge.  I  may  wish 
to  call  you  as  a  witness,  and  in  that  event  it  will 
look  better  if  you  appear  to  have  acted  without 
any  understanding  with  him." 

"  Most  assuredly,"  said  he.  "  And  since  you 
wish  me  to  go  in  my  official  capacity,  I  will  not 
consult  the  doctor  nor  even  allow  Luke  to  know 
that  I  am  there.  I  will  go  in  disguise,  so  that  no 
one  in  Melton  will  know  me  unless  I  disclose 
my  identity.  My  experience  with  mail  robbers 
in  New  Mexico  and  Arizona  will  avail  me." 

"  Capital !"  I  exclaimed.  "  It  will  prevent  all 
complications.  Come  to  me  as  soon  as  you  re 
turn." 

He  arose  and  looked  at  his  watch,  which 
caused  me  to  glance  at  the  clock.  It  was  past 
midnight. 

"  I  must  be  off,"  said  he,  "  for  I  promised 
Luke  to  return.  He  will  be  anxious  to  hear  Dr. 
Guthrie's  conclusion  in  regard  to  Ruth.  He  will 
be  doubly  relieved  when  I  inform  him  of  Dr. 
,Willis's  report  as  to  the  condition  of  his  sister 
Grace." 

"  I  am  afraid  the  last  boat  has  gone,"  I  an- 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

swered,  feeling  some  anxiety  and  considerable 
annoyance  that  I  should  have  thoughtlessly  de-. 
tained  him  so  long. 

"  Oh,  that  is  all  right.  I  have  acquired  the 
habit  of  providing  against  contingencies.  When 
I  came  over,  thinking  that  I  might  be  detained, 
I  hired  a  boat  with  two  men  to  take  me  back.  It 
is  a  bright  night  and  the  moon  is  full.  It  is  not 
as  bright,  however,  as  that  night  when  we  rode 
together  from  Tombstone  to  Benson." 

"  No,"  I  assented,  "  and  it  is  not  likely  that 
either  of  us  will  ever  again  witness  such  splen 
dor.  By  the  bye,"  I  added,  "  have  you  heard  or 
seen  anything  of  that  scoundrel  and  murderer 
Clanton?  I  have  been  wanting  to  ask  you  all 
the  evening,  but  the  affair  of  your  friend  has 
been  so  absorbing  that  the  other  matter  has  been 
constantly  pushed  aside." 

"  No/'  he  replied,  "  I  have  not  heard  anything 
of  him.  I  telephoned  fully  to  police  head 
quarters  Friday  night  and  again  Saturday.  I 
also  communicated  with  the  marshal's  office. 
The  trains  and  vessels  are  being  closely  watched, 
and  it  is  only  a  matter  of  time  when  he  will  be 
caught." 

He  put  on  his  overcoat,  after  carefully  exam- 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY 

ining  a  silver  and  ivory  mounted  revolver  which 
I  recognized  as  one  of  the  brace  he  wore  in  Ari 
zona. 

Those  two  fellows  whom  I  engaged  to  row 
me  over  to-night  had  a  piratical  look,  and  as  I 
shall  be  master  of  the  craft  for  the  time  being, 
I  might  as  well  be  ready  to  enforce  obedience." 
He  said  this  in  that  mild,  soft  voice  which  I 
have  noticed  is  so  often  associated  with  abso 
lute  fearlessness.  He  bade  me  good-night  more 
cheerfully  and  with  less  anxiety  on  his  face  than 
when  he  came  in. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

WARDLEIGH   IS   BAILED 

THE  next  morning  I  sent  a  note  to  Archibald 
Kenton  requesting  him  to  call  upon  me  at  my 
office  before  court  should  open.  He  came  at 
once. 

The  death  of  Robert  Walton  had  caused  me 
to  change  my  plans  somewhat.  I  had  arranged 
with  Kenton  on  Saturday  that  he  should  pre 
sent  a  motion  for  a  new  trial  on  that  morning, 
and  I  had  agreed  to  ask  the  court  to  continue 
the  hearing  of  the  motion  for  a  week  and  to 
consent  that  Wardleigh  might  be  admitted  to 
bail  in  the  mean  time. 

"  Kenton,"  said  I,  when  he  came  in,  "  have 
you  heard  that  one  of  your  witnesses  in  the 
Wardleigh  case  is  dead?" 

"No,"  said  he,  quickly  and  anxiously; 
"which  one?" 

"  Robert  Walton,"  I  replied. 

It  would  be  hard  for  me  to  describe  the  look 
that  swept  over  Kenton's  face  as  I  uttered  the 

165 


!66         THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

name  of  the  postmaster  of  Melton.  I  thought  that 
I  detected  satisfaction  mingled  with  surprise ;  but 
I  must  have  been  mistaken.  He  said  nothing 
except  to  ask  how  I  received  the  news.  I  told 
him  that  I  had  seen  a  telegram  from  a  gentle 
man  there  to  a  friend  of  mine. 

"  If  a  new  trial  should  be  granted,"  said  I, 
tentatively,  "  I  suppose  that  we  would  be  en 
titled  to  have  the  testimony  of  Walton  at  the 
recent  trial  read  to  the  jury?" 

"  That  would  be  the  practice  in  the  State 
courts ;  I  suppose  that  you  would  follow  it,"  re 
plied  Kenton. 

"  I  think  so,"  said  I. 

I  then  told  Kenton  that  if  he  would  present 
his  motion  for  a  new  trial  simply  on  the  general 
ground  of  the  insufficiency  of  the  evidence  to 
sustain  the  verdict,  I  would  myself  ask  the  court 
to  grant  the  motion  at  once,  and  would,  if  neces 
sary,  give  such  reasons  as  would  without  doubt 
induce  the  judge  to  do  so. 

Kenton  was  naturally  much  surprised.  He 
was  very  grateful,  and  so  expressed  himself.  I 
entered  into  no  explanation,  but  said  that  I  would 
exact  the  condition  that  he  should  not  object 
to  my  setting  the  case  for  trial  again  a  week 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY         ^7 

from  that  day.  This  seemed  to  cut  him  up  a 
little,  but  he  acquiesced. 

When  I  entered  the  court-room  the  judge  had 
not  arrived.  I  looked  around  and  saw  that  the 
jurors  were  in  attendance,  one  of  my  assistants 
having  a  criminal  case  for  trial.  The  marshal 
had  brought  Wardleigh  in.  He  looked  com 
paratively  cheerful.  I  saw  him  glance  around 
and  bow  to  Judge  Tremwick  with  an  expression 
of  pleased  gratitude.  Then  he  looked  further, 
and  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jordan.  I 
thought  that  he  seemed  slightly  disappointed, 
perhaps  at  seeing  him  alone;  it  may  have  been 
only  my  fancy.  Just  then  Kenton,  who  sat  by 
him,  spoke  to  him,  and  he  turned  his  face  away. 
There  were  a  few  spectators.  As  I  passed  to 
my  seat  I  stopped  and  shook  hands  with  Mr. 
Jordan,  after  greeting  Judge  Tremwick  and  one 
or  two  other  attorneys  who  were  in  attendance 
upon  other  matters. 

"  My  daughter  Edith  and  I,"  said  he,  with  de 
lightful  frankness,  "  feel  so  deeply  interested  in 
young  Mr.  Wardleigh  that  I  came  over  to  see 
what  would  be  done  in  his  case." 

"  I  think  that  you  will  be  agreeably  surprised," 
said  I,  mysteriously.  Then  without  giving  him 


I 68         THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 

a  chance  to  make  inquiry  of  me  I  continued, 
"  I  trust  that  you  left  your  daughter  quite 
well?" 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  but  no,"  he  answered ;  "  she 
is  nervous  and  restless,  and  I  am  afraid  that  she 
is  threatened  with  illness."  There  was  an  ex 
pression  of  tender  anxiety  in  his  voice  and  a 
suggestion  of  moisture  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  hope  that  she  will  soon  be  better,"  I  re 
sponded  cheerfully,  and  with  what  I  intended  to 
be  a  knowing  and  superior  smile.  He  did  not 
seem  to  notice  it.  I  was  about  to  remark  to 
myself  upon  the  obtuseness  of  the  fathers  of 
lovely  and  susceptible  girls,  when  the  judge  en 
tered  and  the  court  was  opened. 

The  name  of  Luke  Wardleigh  was  called,  the 
clerk  adding  the  words,  "  for  sentence."  Luke 
arose  and  stood  with  quiet  dignity.  I  after 
wards  learned  that  Kenton  had  not  prepared 
him  for  what  was  to  follow;  but  he  knew  that 
he  was  not  to  be  sentenced. 

"  Luke  Wardleigh,"  said  the  clerk,  monoto 
nously,  "  you  have  been  tried  and  convicted  by 
a  jury  of  your  countrymen  selected  by  yourself 
upon  an  indictment  charging  you  with  a  viola 
tion  of  the  postal  laws  of  the  United  States; 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY          ^9 

have  you  anything  to  offer  why  the  sentence  of 
the  law  should  not  be  pronounced  upon  you?" 

There  was  the  usual  dead  silence.  Kenton 
stepped  to  the  bar,  and  after  telling  Wardleigh. 
to  be  seated,  said  that  he  wished  to  present  a  mo 
tion  for  a  new  trial.  He  then  read  the  motion. 
The  judge  looked  towards  me  inquiringly,  evi 
dently  expecting  me  to  ask  for  a  postponement. 
I  arose  and  addressed  the  court : 

"  May  it  please  your  Honor :  I  desire  now, 
on  behalf  of  the  United  States,  to  consent  that 
a  new  trial  in  this  case  may  be  granted." 

I  always  had  a  fancy  for  startling  scenes  of 
this  kind  and  I  enjoyed  the  sensation  that  my 
words  created.  The  jurors  who  had  tried 
Wardleigh  had  gathered  forward  to  hear  sen 
tence  pronounced.  They  looked  surprised  and 
craned  their  necks  to  hear  what  was  to  follow. 
The  clerk  glanced  at  me  with  blank  amazement, 
such  a  thing,  as  he  afterwards  said,  had  never 
occurred  in  his  experience.  Major  Anderson, 
the  chief  inspector,  had  entered  just  before  I 
arose  and  had  taken  a  seat  so  that  I  could  see 
his  face.  He  heard  my  words,  and  immediately 
looked  up  with  astonishment  and  indignation 
depicted  on  his  earnest  and  honest  countenance. 


I  had  debated  with  myself  whether  I  ought  not 
advise  the  major  before  taking  this  step,  but  I 
knew  that  I  would  most  likely  meet  opposi 
tion  from  him,  and  as  I  intended  to  pursue  the 
course  I  had  determined  upon  anyway,  I  con 
cluded  that  it  would  be  less  disagreeable  to  ex 
plain  the  matter  afterwards.  These  observa 
tions  were  all  the  result  of  an  instant  glance 
towards  those  near  me.  The  judge's  face  indi 
cated  the  most  marked  surprise. 

"  Mr.  District  Attorney,"  said  he,  addressing 
me  by  the  title  usually  applied  to  United  States 
attorneys  for  judicial  districts,  "  your  offer  on 
the  part  of  the  government  to  consent  to  a  new 
trial  in  this  case  is,  under  the  circumstances, 
certainly  unusual.  I  had  understood  in  a  gen 
eral  way  that  there  were  some  reasons  why  it 
might  be  proper  to  postpone  sentence  upon  the 
prisoner  for  a  limited  time,  but  I  had  not  ex 
pected  this  course.  I  cannot  overlook  the  fact 
that  for  several  days  the  time  of  the  court  and 
of  the  jurors  empanelled  in  the  case  were  taken 
up  in  the  trial.  The  defendant  was  convicted 
without  any  apparent  hesitation  or  doubt  on  the 
part  of  the  jury.  It  is  true  they  recommended 
him  to  the  mercy  of  the  court,  but  such  recom- 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 


171 


mendations  are  never  construed  as  implying 
doubt  of  the  guilt  of  the  prisoner.  I  recognize 
to  the  fullest  extent  the  authority  of  the  attorney 
for  the  United  States  to  control  prosecutions, 
and  under  our  practice,  which  in  this  case  differs 
from  the  procedure  in  the  State  courts,  I  always 
grant  the  motion  of  the  district  attorney  to  enter 
a  nolle  prosequi — a  dismissal — of  an  indictment 
or  information.  Yet,  after  a  person  is  con 
victed,  the  matter  is  no  longer  under  the  exclu 
sive  control  of  the  prosecuting  officer." 

He  paused  a  moment  as  if  to  reflect,  and  then, 
seeming  to  consider  that  he  might  have  gone  too 
far  in  what  appeared  as  a  reproof  of  my  action, 
he  added,  "  I  have  no  doubt,  Mr.  District  At 
torney,  from  my  knowledge  of  the  conscientious 
and  painstaking  way  that  you  have  ever  dis 
charged  your  public  duties,  that  you  have  good 
and  sufficient  reasons  for  the  course  you  have 
taken.  In  order,  however,  that  an  improper 
precedent  may  not  be  set,  I  think  it  would  be 
well  for  you  to  state  your  reasons.  Perhaps 
such  a  statement  ought  not  to  be  made  in  the 
presence  of  the  jurors  who  may  be  called  to  try 
the  accused  in  the  event  that  a  new  trial  should 
be  granted.  Of  that  you  must  judge.  If  you 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

wish   it   I   will   direct   that   the   jurors   with 
draw." 

"  I  thank  your  Honor,"  said  I,  "  for  your 
pleasant  and  kind  words  of  commendation.  I 
entirely  agree  with  the  court  as  to  the  propriety 
of  my  giving  some  specific  reasons  for  my  course. 
I  shall  do  so.  What  I  have  to  say  may  prop 
erly  be  said  in  the  presence  of  the  jury.  It 
cannot  prejudice  the  defendant  nor  will  it 
embarrass  the  government.  Your  Honor  will 
remember,"  I  continued,  "  that  the  prisoner  was 
found  guilty  upon  evidence  which  was  entirely 
circumstantial.  Since  the  trial  events  have  oc 
curred  which  have  led  me  to  re-examine  the 
evidence  in  my  hands,  and  I  have  become  aware 
of  a  fact,  not  proven,  through  inadvertence, 
but  known  to  me  officially,  which,  unexplained, 
is  entirely  inconsistent  with  the  theory  upon 
which  the  accused  was  convicted.  With  this 
knowledge  in  my  possession  I  do  not  feel  that 
I  would  be  justified  in  moving  for  sentence 
upon  the  prisoner.  Besides,  were  this  fact 
known  to  the  defendant's  counsel,  and  should 
he  present  it  in  a  motion  for  a  new  trial,  I  have 
no  doubt  that  your  Honor  would  at  once  set 
aside  the  verdict.  Under  these  circumstances 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY 


I  have  felt  it  to  be  my  duty  to  adopt  the  course 
I  have  just  taken." 

"  Your  statement  is  quite  sufficient,"  said  the 
judge.  "I  do  not  see  how  you  could  have 
properly  done  otherwise.  I  do  not  deem  it 
incumbent  upon  me  to  require  you  to  disclose 
the  evidence  to  which  you  have  adverted.  It 
is  sufficient  that  as  the  representative  of  the 
United  States  you  state  that  from  the  facts 
within  your  knowledge  the  verdict  should  be 
set  aside.  Mr.  Clerk,  you  will  enter  an  order 
granting  the  defendant's  motion  for  a  new  trial, 
adding  the  words  '  the  United  States  attorney 
consenting  thereto.'  Now,  Mr.  Attorney,  what 
further  action  do  you  desire  to  take  in  the 
.case  ?" 

"  I  wish  to  set  the  case  for  trial  again  one 
week  from  to-day,  if  defendant's  counsel  has 
'no  objections  to  offer." 

"  I  presume,"  said  Kenton,  in  a  rather  dissat 
isfied  tone,  "  that  I  can  have  my  witnesses  here 
at  that  time,  and  I  do  not  object." 

"  Let  it  be  so  ordered,"  said  the  judge. 

Mr.  Kenton  then  moved  that  the  defendant 
be  admitted  to  bail,  and  the  motion  was  granted 
as  a  matter  of  course.  The  amount  of  bail  was 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

fixed  at  fifteen  thousand  dollars  at  my  sugges 
tion. 

Judge  Tremwick,  who  with  his  merchant 
friend  was  about  to  proceed  to  the  clerk's  office 
to  sign  the  bond,  paused  to  speak  to  me. 

"  Entirely  aside  from  my  interest  in  this 
young  man,  Mr.  Grafton,"  said  he,  "  and  as  a 
matter  purely  of  professional  and  official  pro 
priety,  I  desire  to  compliment  you  on  your  action 
this  morning." 

I  thanked  him. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE   THIRD   AND   LAST   TIME 

As  I  was  passing  out  of  the  court-room  a 
stranger,  who  appeared  to  have  been  sitting 
among  the  spectators,  stepped  up  and  was  about 
to  speak  to  me;  just  then  Major  Anderson  ap 
proached,  and  I  asked  him  to  meet  me  after 
luncheon.  I  then  went  on;  the  stranger  fol 
lowed,  and  in  the  corridor  came  up  with  me. 

"  I  beg  your  parding,  sir,"  said  he,  in  a  flat, 
nasal  tone,  "air  you  the  deestrick  atturney?" 
He  was  rather  tall,  but  stooped  a  little;  had 
sandy  hair,  a  heavy  tuft  of  whiskers  of  the  same 
color  on  his  chin,  and  wore  a  pair  of  green  spec 
tacles.  He  was  dressed  in  an  ill-fitting  butter 
nut  suit  and  carried  a  small  bag, — a  veritable 
carpet-bag. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  the  United  States 
attorney;  what  is  it?" 

"  Nuthin'  perticular ;  I  only  wanted  to  say  a 
word  abeaout  my  land  case." 

"  I  think  that  you  had  better  talk  to  one  of  my 

175 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

assistants.  The  clerk  in  the  main  office  will  see 
that  you  are  attended  to."  I  was  about  to  walk 
away.  There  was  no  one  near. 

"  It  is  you  that  I  desire  to  see."  The  words 
fell  upon  my  ear  in  a  soft  tone  which  I  recog 
nized. 

"  Very  well,"  said  I ;  "  let  us  step  into  my 
office."  We  did  so;  I  closed  the  door  and  Far- 
rington,  for  it  was  he,  took  off  his  glasses. 

"  Admirable,"  said  I.  "  I  should  not  have 
known  you  had  you  not  spoken  in  your  natural 
voice.  So  you  did  not  get  off  this  morning?" 

"  No,"  he  replied ;  "  I  was  prevented  by  an 
unexpected  adventure,  of  which  I  will  tell  you. 
But  first  I  want  to  express  my  thanks  for  what 
you  have  just  done.  It  was  entirely  unexpected 
to  me  and  to  Luke.  I  am  glad  now  that  I  did 
not  get  off,  and  it  will  make  no  difference,  for 
I  will  be  in  Melton  in  time  to  commence  work 
to-morrow  morning.  I  will  go  up  on  the  train 
with  Luke,  but  he  will  not  know  that  I  am 
aboard." 

"  I  hardly  think  that  even  he  would  recog 
nize  you,"  said  I. 

"  Perhaps  not,  unless  his  attention  should  be 
particularly  called  to  me.  I  passed  him  twice 


•   THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

in  the  corridor  and  he  did  not  suspect  my  iden 
tity." 

"  What  was  your  adventure?"  I  inquired. 

"  Quite  strange,  stirring,  and  satisfactory," 
he  replied.  "  When  I  left  you  last  night  I  took 
a  coupe  and  drove  to  the  ferry-landing.  I  had 
engaged  a  boat,  as  I  told  you,  to  be  in  the  slip 
south  of  the  Clay  Street  wharf.  I  discharged 
my  hack  at  the  foot  of  Market  Street  and 
started  to  walk  to  that  point.  I  had  some  two 
hundred  yards  to  go.  I  had  proceeded  but  a 
short  distance  when  I  had  the  same  strange  and 
uncanny  experience  which  I  described  to  you 
Friday  night.  I  felt  that  I  heard  a  voice.  Does 
that  expression  convey  a  meaning  to  you  ?" 

"  I  think  I  understand  you,"  I  replied,  very 
much  interested.  "At  any  rate,  I  recall  what 
you  told  me  before  Clanton  attacked  you  the 
other  night." 

"  That  reminds  me,  Mr.  Grafton,"  said  Lloyd, 
"  that  in  my  hurry  to  catch  the  departing  boat 
after  Clanton  gave  us  the  slip  I  did  not  have 
time  to  fully  thank  you."  He  added  some  pleas 
ant  but  entirely  unnecessary  remarks  about  my 
presence  of  mind  and  all  that.  I  insisted  that 
his  own  coolness  put  mine  to  shame,  which  was 

12 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

quite  true.  I  was  so  interested,  however,  in 
his  account  of  his  later  experience  that  I  was 
anxious  to  direct  his  attention  to  the  story,  and 
I  did  so.  He  thereupon  continued  his  narra 
tive: 

"  The  words  which  I  seemed  to  hear,  and  yet 
did  not  hear, — which  seemed  to  be  impressed 
upon  my  consciousness  as  I  imagine  a  melody 
would  be  presented  to  a  man  entirely  deaf, — the 
words  that  I  heard,  or  rather  apprehended  in 
the  sense  I  have  described,  were  these :  '  Oh, 
sir,  be  careful !  The  boatmen  have  some  fright 
ful  plan  to  harm  you.  There  is  a  strange-look 
ing  man  with  them  who  has  been  leading  them 
to  it.'  It  was  the  voice  of  Ruth  Wardleigh.  I 
was  all  but  overpowered  with  emotion,  as  you 
can  understand,  Mr.  Grafton." 

He  was  silent  for  a  while,  and  I  did  not  care 
to  interrupt  his  reflections,  though,  as  may 
be  imagined,  I  was  intensely  interested  and 
curious. 

"  Mr.  Grafton,"  said  he  presently,  mastering 
himself,  "  you  know  something  of  my  sad  story, 
but  much  has  occurred  since  I  told  you  of  the 
tragedy  that  wrecked  my  life, — -much  that  I  do 
not  understand  and  concerning  which  I  have 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

suffered,  God  knows  how  much.  I  should  like 
to  relate  it  all  to  you,  but  I  am  not  equal  to  the 
task.  My  dear  and  wonderfully  talented  friend, 
Dr.  Guthrie,  who,  as  I  am  happy  to  learn,  is; 
also  your  friend  and  relative,  knows  it  all.  I 
beg  you  to  ask  him  in  my  name  to  tell  you  all. 
He  will  do  so.  It  must  be  sufficient  now  for  me 
to  say  I  believe  Miss  Wardleigh  did  speak  to 
me,  though  she  was  not  there." 

To  say  that  I  was  astonished  conveys  no  idea 
of  the  depth  of  the  impression  made  upon  my 
mind  and  heart  by  Farrington's  assertions.  I 
said  nothing,  however,  and  presently  Farring- 
ton  continued : 

"  This  warning  was  more  real  to  me  than 
the  one  I  received  Friday  night,  though  not  so 
startling.  In  the  mean  time,  with  the  strange 
knowledge  in  my  possession  of  which  you  will 
learn  from  Dr.  Guthrie,  I  had  by  reflection  come 
to  accept  the  possibility  that  Miss  Wardleigh  had 
actually  spoken  to  me  in  some  mysterious  and 
inexplicable  way.  My  first  impulse,  therefore, 
was  to  endeavor  to  learn  the  trite  situation  with 
out  being  discovered  myself. 

"  A  small  building,  ten  by  ten  perhaps,  used 
as  a  ticket-office  for  one  of  the  ferry  lines,  stood 


!8o         THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

between  me  and  the  slip  where  I  had  directed 
the  boat  to  await  me.  I  kept  this  structure  in 
range,  and  approached  without  being  seen.  As 
I  did  so  I  saw  the  two  men  whom  I  had  em 
ployed  sitting  on  the  wooden  steps  to  which  the 
yawl  was  moored,  and  sure  enough  there  was 
a  third  person  with  them.  I  was  so  impressed 
with  the  reality  of  the  warning  words  I  had  just 
heard  that  I  looked  at  the  other  man,  half  ex 
pecting  to  see  Rolla  Clanton.  It  was  apparently 
not  he ;  I  saw  a  man  with  heavy  whiskers  and  a 
peculiar,  pallid,  death-like  color.  I  was  now 
close  enough  to  hear  their  conversation,  although 
they  spoke  in  low,  cautious  tones. 

"  '  It's  time  the  bloke  was  comin','  said  one  of 
the  two  boatmen. 

"  '  He'll  soon  be  here,'  exclaimed  the  other. 

"  *  How  d'ye  think  he'll  take  to  the  new  pas 
senger?'  asked  the  first. 

"  '  I  don't  know  nor  care  if  we  once  get  'im 
in  the  yawl.  We'll  just  say  he's  a  friend  that 
lives  on  t'other  side  an'  missed  the  ferry.  A 
gentleman  certainly  won't  object  to  a  couple  of 
poor  men  makin'  an  extra  dollar.'  The  scoun 
drel  said  this  with  a  whine,  and  his  companion 
laughed  a  little. 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY         jgi 

'  Are  you  dead  sure  you  can  make  him  put 
up  and  not  come  back  on  us?'  asked  the  second 
boatman,  turning  to  the  third  man,  who  had  not 
spoken  yet.  '  Your  story  is  a  little  fishy  an'  I'm 
not  sure  I  understand  ye  or  like  the  job.  If  it 
warn't  for  the  big  yaller  boy  you  tipped  us  I'd 
throw  up  the  whole  business.' 

" '  Never  you  mind/  said  the  new-comer, 
speaking  in  a  low,  tense  voice.  '  I  know  what 
I  am  at.  The  fellow  is  running  away  with  val 
uable  papers  and  bonds  from  a  bank.  He  has 
plenty  of  money  in  greenbacks  and  he  will  give 
it  up  to  get  away.' 

"  '  But  suppose  he  shows  fight?'  growled  the 
other  boatman. 

"  '  No  danger,'  was  the  answer ;  '  bank 
thieves  are  always  cowards.  Besides,'  he  added 
fiercely, — '  besides,  if  he  makes  any  trouble  I'll 
settle  accounts  with  him  when  we  get  out  into 
the  bay,  and  I'll  make  a  fair  division  of  profits 
with  you  fellows.' 

"  You  can  well  imagine,  Mr.  Grafton,"  said 
Farrington,  "  that  my  blood  was  boiling  by  this 
time.  Had  I  known  at  that  moment  that  the 
villain  who  was  clearly  planning  to  take  my  life 
was  none  other  than  Clanton " 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

"  What !"  I  exclaimed,  "  it  was  Clanton  then, 
after  all?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Lloyd,  with  calm  satisfaction, 
looking  at  his  watch,  "  and  you  will  have  an 
opportunity  to  renew  your  acquaintance  with 
him  in  a  few  moments;  the  police  are  to  bring 
him  to  the  marshal's  office  at  twelve  o'clock." 

"How,  then,  did  you  capture  him?"  I  in 
quired,  with  deep  interest. 

"  Not  without  much  difficulty,"  replied  he, 
"  but  it  was  done,  and  without  shedding  blood, 
though  it  was  a  close  call.  I  felt  at  the  time 
that  I  would  like  to  have  it  out  with  the  scoun 
drels  then  and  there,  or  in  the  boat  on  the  bay, 
for  that  matter.  Had  I  known  that  I  was  lis 
tening  to  Clanton  I  would  have  tried  to  take 
him  without  waiting,  though  it  would  have  been 
a  difficult  task.  However,  I  concluded  after  a 
moment's  reflection  that  my  duty  to  Luke,  not 
to  speak  of  other  matters  of  infinite  concern  to 
me,  should  preclude  my  taking  any  chances. 

."I  therefore  retreated  without  being  seen  or 
heard  and  went  to  the  station  of  the  harbor 
patrol  which  was  near  by.  I  found  Sergeant 
Squires  on  duty,  and  told  him  that  I  had  made 
arrangements  to  be  rowed  across  the  bay,  but 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

that  I  had  been  warned  that  the  boatmen  whom 
I  had  employed  intended  some  treachery.  He 
asked  me  to  describe  them,  which  I  did  from  my 
recollection  of  their  appearance  early  in  the  even 
ing.  The  sergeant  at  once  recognized  them  as 
members  of  a  gang  of  wharf  thieves.  The 
other  man  he  knew  nothing  about;  I  did  not 
relate  the  conversation  I  had  heard. 

"  We  arranged  a  plan  at  once.  He  was  to 
take  three  of  his  men  and  make  his  way  to  a 
point  within  hailing  distance  of  the  place  from 
which  I  had  listened  to  them.  I  was  then  to 
go  down  openly,  and  upon  finding  a  third  man 
I  was  to  refuse  to  go  in  the  boat.  Further  de 
velopments  were  to  be  left  to  the  occasion.  The 
plan  was  carried  out,"  continued  Farrington, 
"  but  I  was  hardly  prepared  for  the  surprise  to 
which  I  was  subjected.  I  reached  the  steps  and 
affected  to  be  dissatisfied  and  angry  that  there 
should  be  any  one  else  to  cross  the  bay  with  me. 
The  appeal  was  made  that  I  had  heard  before; 
I  was  obdurate.  While  this  talk  was  going  on, 
Clanton,  for  it  was  he,  as  I  have  said,  though  I 
did  not  recognize  him,  stepped  quickly  to  the 
wharf.  I  kept  my  eyes  upon  him.  Suddenly 
he  made  a  suspicious  movement  to  get  me  be- 


1 84         THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

tween  him  and  the  men,  who  had  also  come  tip ; 
as  he  did  so  I  caught  a  clear  glimpse  of  his  face 
by  moonlight,  and  I  saw  that  the  upper  part  was 
daubed  over  with  some  stuff,  and  in  that  in 
stant  it  flashed  into  my  mind  that  it  was  Clanton 
disguised.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  see  the 
red  claw  under  the  paint.  The  next  instant  I 
became  certain  that  it  was  he  from  a  familiar 
motion  which  I  knew  too  well;  but  before  he 
could  draw  his  weapon  I  covered  him,  for  the 
third  time  in  my  life.  It  was  that  fact  that  oc 
curred  to  me,  and  I  said,  '  Clanton,  the  third 
time !  Move  and  it  will  be  the  last.  Throw  up 
your  hands !' 

"  I  must  have  spoken  with  some  force.  I  cer 
tainly  meant  what  I  said,  and  doubtless  my  voice 
gave  that  impression.  I  knew  that  I  was  at  a 
disadvantage  from  the  fact  that  I  had  spared 
him  that  other  night,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
must  have  been  more  or  less  demoralized  when 
he  saw  that  I  had  pierced  his  disguise.  At  any 
rate,  he  surrendered  at  discretion,  though  he  is 
the  quickest  and  the  coolest  man  with  a  pistol 
in  the  country." 

"  Except  Lloyd  Farrington,"  said  I ;  at  which 
a  shadow  passed  over  his  face,  and  the  thought 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY         ^5 

occurred  to  me  that  he  would  rather  have  been 
complimented  in  some  other  direction. 

"By  the  bye/'  I  asked,  "did  the  boatmen 
give  you  any  trouble  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Lloyd ;  "  I  tried  to  guard 
against  that.  When  I  saw  that  Clanton  meant 
mischief,  and  as  I  was  about  to  draw,  I  sprang 
aside,  keeping  the  two  scoundrels  well  under  the 
cover.  They  cowed,  however,  like  chicken 
thieves.  It  was  all  over  in  a  moment.  The 
police  squad  came  up,  and  the  three  prisoners 
were  speedily  handcuffed  and  taken  away. 

"  I  had  to  give  up  crossing  the  bay,  but  I  got 
the  Oakland  jail  at  the  sergeant's  telephone, 
explained  my  mishap  to  Luke  and  told  him  the 
good  news  from  Melton.  Then  I  walked  up  to 
the  Occidental  and  got  a  little  sleep.  I  went 
over  the  bay  on  the  first  boat  this  morning,  saw 
Luke,  and  told  him  that  I  expected  to  be  called 
away  for  a  few  days  on  important  official  busi 
ness,  and  that  I  should  be  busy  until  luncheon, 
when  I  would  meet  him.  I  then  went  off  to  get 
my  valise  and  this  disguise,  and  returned  to  the 
city  in  time  to  arrange  with  the  chief  of  police 
to  turn  Clanton  over  to  the  marshal  as  an  es 
caped  prisoner  of  the  United  States. 


!86         THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

"  I  did  not  make  myself  known  in  connection 
with  the  matter  to  any  one  except  the  chief  of 
police.  I  don't  care  to  appear  against  the  boat 
men,  and  they  will  probably  escape  with  a  term 
for  vagrancy." 

"  Have  you  any  objection,  Lloyd,"  I  asked, 
"  to  my  telling  Dr.  Guthrie  of  your  strange  and 
profoundly  interesting  mental  experience?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  he  answered,  quickly;  "on 
the  contrary,  I  wish  you  would  do  so.  It  will 
interest  him,  but  it  will  not  surprise  him."  He 
said  this  in  a  significant  way  which  I  afterwards 
remembered. 


CHAPTER   XVI 
FARRINGTON'S  DIAGNOSIS 

I  DINED  that  Monday,  according  to  my  ap 
pointment,  with  Guthrie  and  his  wife.  They 
had  a  charming  home  on  Van  Ness  Avenue,  in 
which  was  found  every  comfort  and  reasonable 
luxury.  Harvey  was  quite  an  art  connoisseur 
and  possessed  some  choice  paintings  and  statu 
ary.  I  always  found  the  greatest  attraction, 
however,  in  his  library,  which  contained  more 
rare  and  interesting  books  than  I  had  ever  seen 
in  a  private  collection.  Marie  was  a  model 
housewife,  and  their  dinners  were  perfect. 

"  Mark,"  said  the  doctor,  after  Marie  had  said 
grace  and  served  the  soup,  "  I  met  a  most  de 
lightful  and  delighted  company  at  luncheon,  and 
you  were  the  subject  of  most  of  the  conversa 
tion." 

"Ah,  indeed !"  said  I ;  "it  could  not  have 
been  at  the  Club,  for  among  the  Bohemians  I 
have  lately  gained  a  reputation  for  morose- 
ness." 

187 


!88         THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  it  was  at  Mrs.  Farring- 
ton's,  in  Berkeley." 

"  Tell  us  about  it,  Harvey,"  said  Marie;  "  I 
am  always  interested  in  those  dear  people, — in 
terested  in  their  misfortune.  Was  the  young  lady, 
Miss  Ruth,  there,  or  did  I  understand  you  to  say 
that  you  saw  her  off  to  Melton  yesterday?" 

"  Yes,  she  is  at  Melton,"  said  he.  Then  turn 
ing  to  me,  "  I  received  another  telegram  from 
Dr.  Willis  this  morning,  saying  that  Mrs.  Wal 
ton  has  unexpectedly  and  strangely  rallied,  and 
that  he  has  lost  faith  in  his  diagnosis  of  the 
case.  He  wishes  me  to  go  up  for  a  consulta 
tion  after  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Walton,  which  will 
take  place  to-morrow.  I  shall  go  on  Wednes 
day."  After  a  pause  he  continued,  thought 
fully,  "  I  feel  very  much  interested ;  perhaps 
she  can  be  saved." 

"  I  sincerely  hope  that  she  can  be,"  I  assented, 
earnestly.  "  These  two  families,  the  Farring- 
tons  and  Wardleighs,  so  strangely  united  by 
love  and  affection,  by  sorrow  and  by  separation, 
have  suffered  enough." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  echoed  Mrs.  Guthrie.  "Surely 
a  merciful  Heaven  will  avert  this  new  agony. 
Do  you  think,  Harvey,"  said  she,  turning  to  the 


THE   SEQUEL   TO  A   TRAGEDY 

doctor,  "that  the  death  of  Mrs.  Walton  would 
endanger  Miss  Ruth's  mind?" 

"  I  hardly  know  what  to  think.  Of  course 
I  hope  for  the  best,  but  I  should  be  greatly  re 
lieved  if  I  could  be  assured  that  she  would  not 
be  subjected  to  the  strain.  In  the  phenomena 
connected  with  diseases  of  the  mind,  as  in  the 
physical  world,  there  is  persistence  in  the  line 
of  least  resistance.  Miss  Ruth  became  a  mono 
maniac  from  a  shock  produced  by  excessive  grief ; 
a  similar  shock  may  cause  dementia.  Still,  Dr. 
Willis  reports  that  he  has  not  observed  any 
unfavorable  symptoms,  and  I  am  greatly  en 
couraged." 

"  How  came  you  to  go  over  to  Mrs.  Farring- 
ton's  to  luncheon  and  your  patient  away?"  in 
quired  Marie. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  Luke  Wardleigh,"  he  re 
plied,  "to  ask  him  a  few  questions  in  regard 
to  the  symptoms  of  his  sister,  Mrs.  Walton.  I 
knew  that  he  was  going  to  Melton  this  after 
noon,  and  as  I  desire  to  study  the  case  before  I 
go  to  see  her  on  Wednesday,  I  sought  him.  I 
went  down  to  the  United  States  Court  building 
thinking  to  see  him  there,  but  he  had  gone.  So 
I  hurried  over  to  Berkeley.  I  would  have  gone 


1 9o         THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

in  to  see  you,  Mark,  but  I  did  not  have  the 
time." 

"  Who  were  the  pleasant  company  at  Mrs. 
Farrington's  ?"  asked  his  wife. 

"  In  a  moment,"  said  he.  "  I  want  to  tell 
you  first  of  an  odd  character  I  met  on  the  boat. 
I  was  sitting  on  the  forward  deck  looking  at  the 
gulls  dipping  and  rising  as  they  flew  with  the 
steamer,  when  I  was  accosted  by  a  queer  fellow 
in  green  spectacles,  who  appeared  to  know  me. 

"  '  I  beg  your  parding,  doctor,'  said  he,  talk 
ing  through  his  nose,  as  we  say  when  a  man 
talks  only  through  his  mouth :  '  kin  you  tell 
me  whether  the  University  over  yonder  in  Ber 
keley  teeches  medsin  as  well  as  other  things  ?' 

"  I  explained  that  there  was  a  medical  college 
as  a  part  of  the  University,  but  that  the  lectures 
are  delivered  in  the  city  for  convenience  to  the 
faculty  and  in  order  that  the  students  may  have 
access  to  the  hospitals. 

"  '  En  I  s'pose,  too/  said  he,  with  a  grin, 
'  thet  it's  conveinter  fer  gettin'  stiffs.'  Excuse 
me,  Marie." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  me,  Harvey;  a  doctor's  wife 
must  not  be  too  squeamish, — if  that  is  a  good 
word." 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY         JQI 

"  I  then  asked  him,"  continued  Guthrie,  "  why 
he  inquired  about  the  medical  college. 

'  Cause  I've  got  a  darter  as  wants  to  go 
threw  it.  She's  jest  the  dogondest  brightest 
gal  on  the  Pacific  Slope  and  a  nat'ral  doctor. 
She  kin  see  threw  a  pusson  as  good  as  if  they 
had  a  candle  inside  on  'em.  She  ain't  no  slouch 
'bout  medsin  already.  She's  bin  nussin'  for  the 
doctors  for  three  years, — trained  in  the  nussin'- 
school.  Why,  t'other  day  she  went  to  nuss  a 
woman  as  they  sed  had  cancer  in  the  stomik. 
Nothin'  of  the  sort,  said  my  gal,  when  she  seed 
her.  It's  only  worry  and  shay  grin,  as  she  up 
and  calls  it.  An'  sure  miff,  after  a  while  they 
finds  out  it's  so.' 

" '  By  the  bye/  I  said  to  him,  continued 
Harvey,  'how  did  you  know  that  I  was  a  doc 
tor?' 

"  '  Oh,  I  know  ye  a  long  time  by  sight  and 
reputation.  I  heerd  yer  testerfy  in  the  Notting 
ham  will  case.  My,  how  ye  knocked  them 
t'other  doctors  sky  high !  They  do  say,  though, 
'beout  town,  that  ye  did  it  all  fer  love  of  ole 
Nottingham's  purty  niece.'  I  did  not  know 
whether  to  resent  his  impertinence  or  not.  How 
ever,  he  was  so  simple  and  good-natured  that  I 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

only  laughed.  I  suppose  that  he  was  repeating 
something  he  had  heard." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,  Harvey !"  said  Marie, 
with  a  laugh.  "  No  one  would  repeat  such  a 
story  who  was  in  court ;  at  any  rate,  if  he  knew 
the  facts.  There  I  sat,  three  whole  days,  while 
you  were  on  the  stand,  desperately  in  love  with 
you  and  you  never  even  noticed  me." 

"  Well,  dearest,  I  am  still  young  and  may 
hope  to  be  able  to  make  amends  by  my  devotion 
during  the  remainder  of  my  life." 

"  This  is  delightfully  interesting,"  said  I,  cyn 
ically,  "  but  I  would  like  to  hear  about  the  com 
pany  at  lunch." 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  said  Guthrie;  "  I  think 
that  I  mentioned  that  the  chief  subject  of  conver 
sation  at  lunch  was  Mark  Graf  ton,  Esq." 

I  laughed  heartily  and  was  able  to  hide  my 
amusement  over  Farrington's  disguise.  At  first 
I  thought  that  I  would  tell  Harvey  who  his 
friend  was,  but  then  I  remembered  that  both 
were  going  to  Melton  and  that  Lloyd  wished 
not  to  be  known. 

"  Now  to  answer  your  question,"  said  the 
doctor.  "  You  wanted  to  know  who  were  the 
pleasant  company  at  Mrs.  Farrington's.  Well, 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

there  was  quite  a  family  reunion.  When  I  ar 
rived  it  was  just  after  noon.  Luke  had  gone 
to  Kenton's  office,  it  seems,  and  did  not  get  over 
until  the  next  boat.  Lloyd  was  at  his  uncle's, 
and  came  over  soon  after  I  reached  there.  Mrs. 
Farrington  pressed  me  to  stay  to  luncheon,  and 
as  Luke,  whom  I  wished  to  see,  had  not  arrived, 
I  consented.  She  had  invited  a  Rev.  Mr.  Jor 
dan  and  his  daughter,  Miss  Edith,  who  were 
witnesses,  as  I  understand,  against  Luke,  and 
whom  you  mentioned,  Mark,  last  night.  With 
her  peach-bloom  complexion,  bright  eyes,  lovely 
face,  and  vivacious  ways  she  is  very  pretty." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  Harvey,"  said  I, 
"  and  I  am  sure,  Marie,  that  you  will  agree  with 
both  of  us  when  you  see  her." 

The  dear  little  woman  laughed  at  our  rhap 
sody,  but  said  that  she  was  not  prepared  to  dis 
pute  it.  She  promised  to  go  over  and  see  Miss 
Edith  and  Mrs.  Farrington  when  Jeanette  should 
return. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  the  doctor  to  me,  "  that  you 
have  told  Marie  how  much  interested  Miss  Jor 
dan  was  in  Luke  Wardleigh's  acquittal  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  there  is  a  preliminary  romance  that 
came  out  in  the  trial  which  I  have  not  told  either 
13 


I94    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

of  you."  I  related  Miss  Edith's  testimony  and 
her  reference  to  the  runaway  team  and  Luke's 
courageous  rescue. 

"Good,"  said  Harvey;  "I  can  now  better 
understand  the  pretty  scene  of  the  drama  which 
I  witnessed  to-day.  It  seems  that  these  two 
young  people,  who  are  in  love  with  each  other 
and  have  been  for  a  week  at  least,  had  not  been 
introduced  until  to-day  and  had  never  spoken 
together.  I  was  talking  to  her  when  Luke  came 
in,  and  you  should  have  seen  his  face.  The 
meeting  was  entirely  unexpected  to  him  and  he 
looked  as  if  he  had  just  waked  up  in  heaven." 

"  How  did  Miss  Edith  receive  him  ?"  asked 
Marie,  with  curiosity. 

"With  a  sweet  smile  and  a  crimson  blush," 
replied  the  doctor.  "  However,  though  Luke 
was  surprised  and  delighted  at  finding  her  there, 
he  did  not  forget  his  dignity  or  ease  of  manner 
for  a  moment.  Bowing  to  Miss  Edith  when  he 
was  presented  by  Mrs.  Farrington,  he  said,  "  I 
can  never  forget,  Miss  Jordan,  your  great  kind 
ness  to  me  during  the  terrible  days  through 
which  I  have  just  passed.' 

"  '  Mr.  Wardleigh,'  she  replied,  '  I  only  did 


'  THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY 

what  was  due  to  an  innocent  man  wrongly  and 
unjustly  accused.' 

"After  a  little  while,"  continued  Harvey,  "  I 
don't  know  just  how  it  happened,  but  those 
young  people  were  standing  alone  in  the  bay- 
window  :  I  was  talking  to  Mrs.  Farrington  and 
Lloyd  and  Mr.  Jordan  were  discussing  some 
piece  of  news.  They  could  not  have  stood  there 
more  than  two  or  three  minutes  until  luncheon 
was  announced,  but  I  am  quite  certain  that  in 
that  brief  time  enough  was  said  to  enable  them 
to  quite  understand  each  other." 

"  How  delightful !"  said  Marie;  "  when  did 
you  become  so  observing,  Harvey?  It  is  not 
often  that  you  know  what  is  going  on  about 
you."  She  laughed  merrily,  which  made  Adele 
clap  her  hands  as  if  she  understood  it  all. 

"  We  had  a  delightful  luncheon,"  continued 
the  doctor.  "  I  will  not  repeat  what  was  said ; 
it  would  make  you  blush,  Mark.  When  we 
arose  Lloyd  excused  himself,  as  he  was  going 
off  on  some  official  business,  and  I  found  the 
chance  to  get  the  information  from  Luke  for 
which  I  went  over,  and  then  I  came  away." 

In  a  little  while  Marie  arose,  and  Harvey  and 
I  repaired  to  the  library. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

REUNITED    FOR   A    MOMENT 

"  RUTH  WARDLEIGH'S  case  is  the  most  re 
markable  in  my  experience,"  said  Dr.  Guthrie, 
after  we  had  lighted  our  cigars.  "  Not  alone 
within  my  personal  experience,  but  also  within 
the  range  of  my  reading." 

"  What  have  been  the  peculiar  characteristics 
of  her  insanity?"  I  inquired. 

"  I  have  never  considered  that  she  was  insane, 
in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word,"  he  replied; 
"  that  is  to  say,  there  has  never  been  in  her 
mental  disorder  any  approach  to  mania  or  de 
mentia.  I  know  that  in  your  profession  the 
notion  prevails  that  a  person  is  insane  who  is 
not  in  every  respect  sane,  and  perhaps  this  opin 
ion  is  in  consonance  with  a  strictly  scientific 
definition.  But  when  we  ordinarily  speak  of  a 
person  as  being  insane  we  imply  a  chronic  dis 
order  of  the  brain,  inducing  chronic  disordered 
mental  symptoms.  I  do  not  believe  that  Miss 
Wardleigh's  brain  is  permanently  affected,  nor 
196 


'THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY 

indeed  affected  at  all  as  far  as  the  material  sub 
stance  of  the  organ  is  concerned." 

"  Your  estimate  of  her  case,"  I  suggested,  "  is 
at  variance  with  the  idea  given  me  by  Lloyd 
Farrington.  I  refer  to  his  description  of  the 
terrible  scene  with  her  after  the  tragedy  which 
drove  her  mad.  Pardon  my  expression.  I  use 
the  word  '  mad'  because  I  have  no  better.  Cer 
tainly,  so  far  as  her  relations  to  Lloyd  went, 
she  seems  to  have  been  insane." 

"  I  perfectly  understand  how  it  must  appear 
so  to  you,"  he  replied.  : .."  I  have  heard  his  story, 
as  well  as  the  account  by  his  mother,  and  I  have 
questioned  them  with  the  greatest  care.  I  be 
lieve  that  I  am  perfectly  familiar  with  all  the 
facts.  ;  That  Ruth  was  apparently  partially  in 
sane — a  monomaniac  if  you  choose — cannot  be 
denied;  yet  after  the  closest  study  of  the  case 
for  five  years  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  there  is 
now  no  disease  of  the  brain  beyond  the  tem 
porary  obliteration — effacement — of  the  mem 
ory  of  a  particular  group  of  facts,  if  that  can  be 
called  a  mental  disease.".! 

"  By  the  bye,"  said  I,  "  you  speak  of  being 
familiar  with  all  of  the  facts.  I  am  satisfied 
that  I  am  not.  ^  All  that  I  know  is  that  Miss 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

Ruth  seemingly  went  mad,  or  partially  so,  from 
a  shock  produced  by  excessive  grief  six  years 
ago;  that  her  love  for  Lloyd  Farrington  was 
turned  to  aversion,  and  that  she  believed  and 
declared  that  he  had  murdered  her  parents. 
In  conversation  with  Mrs.  Farrington  yester 
day  she  was  about  to  tell  me  of  the  change  in 
Ruth's  condition,  or  symptoms,  since  you  be 
came  her  physician,  but  just  then  the  young  lady 
entered,  the  picture  of  good  health,  and  I  lost 
the  rest." 

"  Then  you  only  know  the  first  phase  of  the 
case.  Let  me  tell  you,  as  briefly  as  I  may,  my 
experience  in  the  observation  and  treatment  of 
the  most  obscure,  and  perhaps  for  that  reason 
the  most  interesting,  instance  of  mental  disorder 
of  which  I  have  had  any  knowledge. 

"  It  was  just  a  year  after  the  death  of  her 
parents,  and  the  first  hysterical  outbreak,  that 
I  was  consulted,"  continued  the  doctor.  "  Mrs. 
Farrington,  accompanied  by  Luke  Wardleigh, 
came  to  see  me.  They  told  me  the  story  with 
which  you  are  familiar.  After  the  second  scene 
with  Lloyd  Farrington,  they  said,  she  became 
profoundly  melancholy.  She  manifested,  how 
ever,  the  utmost  affection  for  Mrs.  Farrington 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

and  for  her  brother  Luke.  She  never  spoke  of 
Lloyd ;  but  whenever  anything  calculated  in  any 
way  to  remind  her  of  him  was  said  in  her  pres 
ence,  she  shuddered  and  exhibited  the  deepest 
sympathy  for  Mrs.  Farrington ;  at  least,  so  they 
construed  her  actions.  Her  general  health,  they 
explained,  was  good,  and  except  for  the  delusion 
in  regard  to  Lloyd,  she  was  perfectly  rational. 
Always  fond  of  music,  and  an  exceptionally  fine 
performer,  it  now  became  a  passion  with  her, 
though  her  selections  were  always  sad.  She 
read  a  great  deal,  but  seemed  to  take  no  interest 
in  current  events.  I  found  myself  deeply  inter 
ested  from  the  first,  and  indicated  my  willingness 
to  attend  her,  provided  I  could  have  charge  of 
the  case.  That  being  conceded,  I  appointed  the 
following  day  to  see  her.  My  first  personal 
observation  and  study  of  her  symptoms  added 
very  little  to  my  information.  I  was  obliged  to 
proceed  slowly  and  with  great  caution.  She 
insisted  that  she  was  not  ill,  nor  was  she,  so 
far  as  her  physical  condition  was  concerned. 
I  feared  to  approach  the  subject  of  her  delusion 
lest  I  might  precipitate  an  hysterical  paroxysm. 
It  was  several  weeks  before  I  made  the  first  ex 
periment.  I  then  directed  Mrs.  Farrington  to 


200    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

place  in  the  room  a  photograph  of  her  son,  which 
I  could  pick  up  casually.  I  called  and  found 
Miss  Wardleigh  alone.  She  was  in  unusually 
good  spirits.  I  asked  her  to  play  Schumann's 
'  Traumerei,'  which  she  did  with  exquisite  touch 
and  feeling.  I  then  began  to  speak  of  Mrs.  Far- 
rington  and,  taking  up  Lloyd's  photograph, 
asked  if  she  knew  her  son.  The  effect  was  in 
stantaneous  and  painful  in  the  extreme.  She 
burst  into  tears  and  begged  me  never  to  men 
tion  his  name  again  in  her  hearing.  '  I  knew 
•him/  she  exclaimed,  *  before  he  committed  the 
terrible  deed  which  darkens  my  life;  and  I 
rested  under  the  delusion  that  I  loved  him.  My 
eyes  were  opened  to  his  true  character  only 
when  it  was  too  late,  too  late.  For  God's  sake, 
do  not  speak  of  him  in  the  presence  of  his 
mother.' 

"After  a  study  of  the  case  for  three  months," 
continued  Guthrie,  "  during  which  period  I  saw 
her  perhaps  a  dozen  times,  I  concluded  positively 
that  her  brain,  as  a  physical  organ,  was  unim 
paired.  I  became  equally  certain  that  the  de 
lusion  with  which  she  was  afflicted  was  the 
result  of  a  profound  and  startling  mental  im 
pression  caused  by  a  terrific  mental  shock.  This 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY         2OI 

impression  must  have  been  received,  I  concluded, 
while  she  had  hysteria,  that  mysterious  disorder 
of  the  nervous  system  whose  anatomical  seat  is 
still  unknown  to  medical  science.  She  had  no 
present  symptoms  of  hysteria,  but  there  are  well- 
authenticated  instances  of  lasting  impressions 
first  obtained  during  a  paroxysm  of  this  nervous 
disease.  The  danger  in  such  cases  is  that  the 
impression  may  leave  a  permanent  trace,  im 
pairing  the  brain  and  causing  mania.  The 
problem  with  me,  therefore,  was  to  remove  the 
delusional  impression." 

"  I  presume,"  said  I,  "  that  you  found  little 
assistance  from  drugs." 

;  "None  at  all,"  he  replied;  "of  course  if  I 
had  had  a  shattered  or  enfeebled  constitution 
to  deal  with,  or  any  present  physical  disorder, 
I  should  have  treated  her  accordingly ;  but  here 
was  a  young  woman  in  perfect  health  of  body 
and  mind,  except  the  delusion,  which  appeared 
to  be,  as  I  say,  simply  the  memory  of  a  false  im 
pression  received  while  in  an  hysterical  parox 
ysm. 

"  I  concluded  to  try  an  experiment  at  which 
I  doubt  not  most  of  my  professional  brethren 
would  scoff,  and  which  I  myself  would  not 


202    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

recommend  to  others.  I  had  given  much  study 
to  the  strange  phenomena  of  hypnotism.  I  had 
personally  observed  several  instances  where  im 
pressions  had  been  produced  upon  the  minds  of 
persons  while  in  the  hypnotic  state  which  had 
continued  after  the  subject  had  been  brought 
into  the  normal  condition. 

"  She  had  now  been  under  my  care  for  six 
months.  At  that  time  Lloyd  Farrington  re 
turned  from  Nevada  and  I  met  him  for  the  first 
time.  He  came  to  me  with  young  Wardleigh, 
who  had  just  graduated  from  the  University. 
I  received  a  most  favorable  impression  of  Far 
rington,  and  from  that  time  to  this  he  has  grown 
upon  me.  He  has  a  fine  character." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  Harvey,"  said  I. 
"  I  esteem  Lloyd  Farrington  as  one  of  the 
noblest  young  men  I  have  ever  known." 

"  Well,"  continued  Guthrie,  "  I  submitted  my 
plans  to  him  and  to  Luke,  and  they  were  kind 
enough  to  express  entire  confidence  in  my  judg 
ment. 

"  I  prepared  Miss  Wardleigh,"  he  proceeded, 
"  by  interesting  her  in  the  phenomena  of  hypno 
tism  and  by  giving  her  some  of  the  latest  dis 
cussions  of  the  subject  to  read.  When  I  sug- 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY         203 

gested  it  she  was  perfectly  willing  to  submit 
to  the  experiment  upon  herself.  Of  course  she 
had  not  the  remotest  idea  of  my  purpose,  but 
looked  upon  it  simply  as  a  fad.  When  I  was 
ready,  on  Sunday,  a  few  days  after  my  first 
interview  with  Farrington,  I  directed  him  to 
come  to  his  mother's  house  at  two  o'clock.  He 
was  troubled  at  the  idea  of  meeting  her,  but 
I  assured  him  that  there  would  be  no  repetition 
of  the  scene  which  had  occurred  at  his  last  inter 
view  with  her,  which  he  had  described  to  me, 
though  I  had  first  had  it  from  his  mother. 

"  The  usual  method  of  producing  the  hypnotic 
state,  as  you  know,  is  to  direct  the  keen  attention 
of  the  subject  to  some  object,  usually  a  bright 
spot,  and  then  to  make  certain  passes  over  the 
face  and  to  gently  press  the  eyes  as  they  incline 
to  close.  But  I  have  discovered  a  drug  which 
by  its  action  upon  the  sensorium  inhibits  mus 
cular  volition  and  voluntary  ideation,  producing 
the  same  phenomena  as  by  the  ordinary  method. 
I  have  never  given  this  discovery  to  the  public, 
nor  shall  I.  It  would  be  liable  to  abuse.  The 
action  of  the  drug  is  not  perceptible  for  about 
two  hours  after  it  is  administered.  On  the  day 
preceding  the  experiment  I  gave  a  powder  to 


204    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

Luke  and  directed  him  to  give  it  to  her  at  twelve 
o'clock,  telling  him  that  I  would  be  over  at 
half-past  one.  When  I  arrived  I  found  Luke 
and  the  others  quite  anxious,  but  I  reassured 
them. 

"As  the  hour  of  two  o'clock  approached  I 
hastened  the  action  of  the  drug  by  causing  Ruth 
to  fix  her  attention  on  a  small  Japanese  crystal 
and  by  making  a  few  passes.  Almost  immedi 
ately  she  was  completely  hypnotized,  the  power 
of  voluntary  ideation  and  muscular  action  being 
entirely  suspended.  I  then  brought  her  under 
the  influence  of  my  will.  '  Miss  Ruth,'  said  I, 
'  will  you  please  play  for  me  the  first  movement 
of  the  "Moonlight  Sonata"?' 

"  '  With  pleasure/  she  replied  with  alacrity, 
rising  from  the  ottoman  on  which  she  was  par 
tially  reclining  and  walking  straight  to  the  piano, 
though  her  eyes  were  closed.  She  rendered  the 
piece  with  masterly  skill  and  indescribable  ten 
derness.  At  a  signal  from  me  Lloyd  entered  as 
she  began  to  play  and  stood  near  the  door  ex 
pectantly.  When  she  had  finished  the  Sonata 
she  sat  facing  the  piano  with  her  hands  still  upon 
the  key-board  and  her  eyes  closed.  I  stood  at 
the  end  of  the  piano. 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY         205 

'  Miss  Ruth/  I  said,  with  commanding  firm 
ness,  '  please  look  at  me.'  She  did  so,  opening 
her  eyes  as  if  she  were  waking,  or  rather  coming 
out  of  the  hypnotic  state;  but  I  knew  from  the 
rigidity  of  her  body  that  she  was  still  fully  under 
the  influence. 

'  Do  you  know,'  I  exclaimed,  '  that  you  are 
under  a  strange  and  painful  delusion?' 

'  Why,  what  is  that,  doctor  ?'  she  replied  in 
a  tone  of  startled  anxiety. 

"  *  In  regard  to  Lloyd  Farrington/  said  I. 
When  I  uttered  his  name  she  shuddered  slightly, 
looked  up  appealingly,  and  was  about  to  say 
something,  when  I  checked  her.  '  It  is  all  a  de 
lusion  caused  by  hysteria,'  I  exclaimed,  almost 
sharply.  '  You  must  forget  it.  Your  father 
and  mother  were  drowned  in  a  terrible  accident 
and  Lloyd  was  in  nowise  to  blame.  He  is  noble 
and  true.  He  loved  you  then  and  still  loves  you 
and  you  love  him.'  As  I  spoke,  the  expression 
of  her  face  changed  with  the  ideas  which  my 
words  conveyed.  Tears  flowed  from  her  eyes 
as  I  recalled  the  death  of  her  parents;  tender 
ness  beamed  from  her  whole  countenance  when 
I  told  her  that  Lloyd  still  loved  her. 

"  '  Why,  of  course,  now  that  you  tell  me/  she 


206    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

said  in  a  low,  far-away  voice,  '  I  see  that  it  was 
all  a  mad  delusion.  Merciful  God!  how  he 
must  have  suffered!  Truly,  truly,  as  you  say, 
I  still  love  him  with  my  whole  heart.' 

"  With  a  look  I  directed  Lloyd  to  come  for 
ward. 

" '  Miss  Ruth/  said  I,  '  Mr.  Farrington  is 
here;  speak  to  him/ 

" '  Yes,  I  know,'  she  said,  with  quick  appre 
hension,  '  I  must  speak  to  him.'  She  then 
turned,  rose,  walked  up  to  him  and  placed  her 
hands  in  his.  '  Dear  Lloyd,'  she  exclaimed  with 
infinite  tenderness,  '  can  you  forgive  me  for  all 
the  anguish  I  have  caused  you?'  He  did  not 
trust  himself  to  speak,  but  lifted  and  pressed  her 
hands  to  his  lips. 

"  The  scene  was  painful.  Poor  Lloyd  was 
deeply  affected.  Mrs.  Farrington  was  weep 
ing,  and  Luke  sat  with  clasped  hands  and  an 
anxious  look  on  his  face.  My  own  nerves  were 
strung  to  a  fearful  tension, — I  determined  to 
end  the  scene. 

"  *  Miss  Wardleigh/  I  said,  arresting  her  at 
tention  immediately,  '  did  you  notice  how  hard 
it  is  raining?'  -  She  dropped  Lloyd's  hands, 
walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  The  sun 


THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY    207 

was  shining  brightly  but  she  seemed  to  see  the 
rain.  '  How  it  pours !'  she  exclaimed.  I  mo 
tioned  Farrington  to  be  seated  and  called  her 
back. 

"  '  Miss  Ruth,'  said  I,  '  I  suppose  that  you 
know  Mr.  Farrington  has  gone?' 

*  Gone  ?'  she  replied,  inquiringly  and  rather 
vacantly,  not  seeming  to  return  to  the  emotions 
and  thoughts  of  a  moment  before. 

"  '  In  regard  to  that  delusion  which  has  pos 
sessed  you  concerning  Lloyd  Farrington,  I  re 
quire  of  you  that  you  absolutely  forget  it  and  all 
of  the  circumstances  and  facts  connected  with 
it  and  the  events  which  caused  it.  Do  you 
promise  this  ?' 

"  '  Yes,  if  you  wish  it/  she  said,  simply  and 
without  any  emotion. 

"  '  I  not  only  wish  it,  I  insist  upon  it/  said  I, 
forcibly. 

"  '  Very  well/  she  replied. 

"  I  then  directed  her  to  return  to  the  ottoman 
on  which  she  was  seated  when  she  passed  into 
the  hypnotic  state.  She  did  so.  I  made  a  few 
sharp  passes  over  her  face  and  commanded  her 
to  awake.  With  a  deep-drawn  sigh  she  re 
turned  to  consciousness. 


208    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

"  Now  was  the  crucial  moment.  Farrington 
was  still  in  the  room.  Would  she  repulse  him 
with  horror.  I  trembled  with  anxiety.  I  waited ; 
she  rubbed  her  eyes  and  yawned.  '  Surely/  said 
she,  '  I  must  have  been  asleep.  How  stupid  in 
me !'  Her  eyes  fell  on  Lloyd,  and  her  face  showed 
simply  a  slight  astonishment  as  if  at  seeing  a 
stranger  in  the  room.  I  determined  to  test  the 
matter  at  once. 

"  '  Yes/  said  I,  *  you  were  asleep  and  talking 
in  your  sleep.' 

"  '  Really,  do  you  mean  it?'  she  inquired,  half 
anxiously  and  half  amused ;  '  what  did  I  say  ?' 

" '  You  seemed  to  be  talking  to  Lloyd/  I  re 
plied,  and  awaited  the  effect. 

"  '  Lloyd  ?'  she  said,  inquiringly ;  *  what  a 
pretty  name!  but  I  never  knew  any  one  who 
bore  it.  I  must  have  been  talking  to  one  of 
my  dreamland  acquaintances.  I  have  a  number, 
but  I  never  caught  their  names.' 

"  '  Mrs.  Farrington/  said  I,  turning  to  her,  '  I 
think  that  you  had  better  take  Miss  Wardleigh 
to  her  room.  She  seems  very  fatigued.'  Ruth 
she  bowed  slightly,  as  if  to  a  stranger  to  whom 
arose  listlessly  and  walked  slowly  out  of  the 
room  with  her  friend.  As  she  passed  Lloyd 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY 


209 


she  had  not  been  introduced.  There  was  no  sign 
of  recognition.  He  had  the  presence  of  mind 
to  remain  perfectly  passive,  simply  returning  her 
bow.  But  as  soon  as  she  was  gone  a  look  of 
anguish  swept  over  his  expressive  and  hand 
some  features.  I  called  Mrs.  Farrington  back 
and  told  her  that  if  Ruth  should  ask  who  Lloyd 
was,  to  say  that  he  was  a  friend  of  mine  who 
had  come  to  find  me  there." 

"  Did  you  consider  your  experiment  a  fail 
ure?"  I  inquired  of  the  doctor. 

"  Not  by  any  means,  as  you  will  see,"  he  re 
plied. 

"As  I  was  saying,"  he  continued,  "  Lloyd 
seemed  greatly  distressed, — looked  the  picture 
of  helpless  despair  as  Ruth  passed  without  recog 
nizing  him. 

"  '  My  dear  Farrington,'  I  said,  '  though  we 
have  apparently  not  succeeded  in  restoring  Miss 
Wardleigh  to  her  normal  mental  condition,  I 
feel  greatly  encouraged  by  what  we  have  just 
seen.  If  we  have  at  least  removed — effaced  the 
trace  of  the  delusional  impression  regarding 
yourself  received  by  her  while  in  the  hysterical 
paroxysm  caused  by  the  tragic  death  of  her 
parents,  we  have  done  much.  There  was  always 
14 


2io         -THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

danger  that  mania  or  dementia  might  follow 
should  she  be  afflicted  by  hysteria  again  while 
the  delusion  was  present.  If  I  have  removed 
that  delusion,  as  I  hope  and  believe  I  have,  I  have 
at  least  greatly  lessened  the  danger  of  insanity.' 
"  Farrington  was  much  relieved,  and  although 
he  was  heart-broken  at  having  lost  her  again 
just  as  he  thought  that  he  had  regained  her, 
still,  he  was  grateful  beyond  expression  when 
I  made  these  explanations  to  him.  I  now  told 
him  and  Luke  that  I  thought  it  best  that  he 
should  not  see  her  again  for  a  considerable  time, 
and  I  directed  Luke  to  impress  upon  Mrs.  Far 
rington  the  necessity  of  continuing  the  same 
silence  in  regard  to  Lloyd  as  in  the  past.  I  then 
came  away  with  Farrington,  and  a  few  days  later 
he  left  the  city." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

DAWN 

THE  doctor  paused  for  a  moment  to  offer  me 
a  fresh  cigar. 

I  confess  that  I  was  much  affected  by  the  nar 
rative.  The  change  in  the  mental  condition  of 
Ruth  Wardleigh  was  to  me  inexplicable.  The 
account  of  the  meeting  between  her  and  Lloyd 
was  deeply  interesting.  I  remembered  a  vague 
reference  to  the  incident  by  Farrington  when  he 
told  me  his  story  in  Arizona,  but  I  had  no  inti 
mation  of  the  sad  character  and  painful  circum 
stances  of  the  episode. 

"  Harvey,"  said  I,  "  while  I  think  of  it,  let 
me  tell  you  of  two  strange  and  interesting  inci 
dents,  seemingly  connecting  these  two  lovers, 
for  so  I  think  of  them  notwithstanding  their 
tragic  separation."  I  then  described  the  affair 
at  the  ferry  Friday  night,  and  related  Lloyd's 
adventure  of  the  night  before  as  he  had  told  it 
to  me  that  morning.  When  I  concluded  by 
quoting  a  remark  that  Farrington  had  made,  to 

211 


212   i  THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

the  effect  that  the  doctor  would  be  interested, 
but  not  surprised,  Harvey  said, — 

"  Farrington  is  only  partly  right.  In  view 
of  what  Ruth  has  often  told  me  of  her  strange 
dreams,  this  particular  incident  does  not  surprise 
me;  but  the  possibility  of  such  alleged  occult 
experiences  being  true  is  a  matter  of  wonder 
ment.  You  will  better  understand  what  I  mean 
when  I  have  told  you  the  remainder  of  Miss 
Wardleigh's  story." 

"  Pardon  me  for  interrupting  you,"  I  inter 
posed  ;  "  I  promise  not  to  do  it  again.  Please 
proceed." 

He  continued,  "  After  my  hypnotic  experi 
ment  I  waited  several  weeks  before  attempting 
to  discover  whether  there  was  any  trace  of  the 
delusional  impression  on  her  mind.  I  then  tested 
her  by  talking  with  Luke,  in  her  presence,  of 
Lloyd,  and  in  such  a  manner  that  had  she  re 
membered  him  she  could  not  have  failed  to 
show  it.  There  was  no  sign  to  indicate  that  she 
ever  knew  or  had  heard  of  him.  Then  after  a 
time  I  caused  Mrs.  Farrington  to  question  her 
in  my  presence,  gently  and  carefully,  in  regard 
to  the  tragic  death  of  her  father  and  mother. 
To  our  surprise  we  discovered  that  all  memory 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY         213 

of  the  terrible  affair  had  been  effaced.  She  re 
membered  her  parents  perfectly,  but  only  down 
to  a  period  just  preceding  her  meeting  Lloyd. 
Strange  to  say,  she  had  a  clear  recollection  of 
other  events  during  that  time ;  there  was  simply 
an  entire  effacement  of  the  memory  of  the  group 
of  facts  connected  with  Lloyd  Farrington  and 
the  death  of  her  father  and  mother.  After  a 
while  she  began  to  ask  questions  regarding  their 
death,  and  Mrs.  Farrington,  under  my  advice, 
told  her,  with  care  and  without  mentioning  the 
particular  circumstances,  that  they  had  been 
drowned  and  that  she  had  been  very  ill  after 
the  event.  So  she  came  to  recognize  the  fact 
that  she  had  forgotten  something  in  the  delirium 
of  a  severe  illness  caused  by  the  fearful  accident 
which  had  made  her  an  orphan. 

"  Matters  ran  on  thus  for  months, — months 
running  into  years.  From  time  to  time  Lloyd 
came  to  the  city  and  we  discussed  her  condition. 
One  day  he  said  to  me, — 

"  '  Why  may  I  not  make  Ruth's  acquaintance 
anew  ?  Perhaps  she  may  learn  to  love  me ;  and 
as  I  have  always  loved  her  during  these  dreary 
years  of  separation,  we  may  be  happily  re 
united.' 


214    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

"  I  was  startled.  I  had  often  thought  of  it. 
But  in  my  own  mind  I  was  convinced  that  it 
would  be  a  most  dangerous  experiment.  Yet 
how  was  I  to  refuse  the  request  which  was  im 
plied  in  the  suggestion  ?  I  thought  of  his  heroic 
self-sacrifice,  of  the  depth  and  constancy  of  his 
love,  of  the  yearning  of  his  young  heart.  He 
saw  the  distress  on  my  face,  and  said,  in  that 
sad  tone  with  which  you  are  familiar, — 

" '  I  see  that  it  will  not  do,  but  tell  me  why. 
Do  not  withhold  anything  because  you  may  fear 
the  effect  upon  me.  I  am  strong  and  I  have 
steeled  myself  against  the  worst.' 

"  *  Then  I  frankly  confess,  Lloyd,'  said  I, 
'  that  it  would  be  extremely  dangerous.  A  new 
acquaintance  with  you  would  probably  revive 
the  delusion,  and  would  in  all  likelihood  result 
most  disastrously.' 

"  '  I  feared  as  much,'  he  said,  '  and  it  is  there 
fore  better,  better  for  her  sake  and  for  mine, 
that  matters  should  remain  as  they  are.'  His 
words  were  so  despairingly  sad  that  they  pierced 
me  to  the  heart.  I  did  not  try  to  encourage  him, 
for  I  had  no  encouragement  to  offer. 

"  Three  years  went  by.  Lloyd  was  away  most 
of  the  time,  and  only  came  up  now  and  then  for 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY         215 

a  day  or  so.  Luke  was  away  with  him.  I  think 
that  he  went  along  hoping  to  make  life  less  deso 
late  for  his  friend.  They  were  devoted  to  each 
other. 

"  I  did  not  see  Ruth  very  often.  I  had  no 
hope  of  benefiting  her,  but  I  visited  her  enough 
to  observe  the  growth  and  development  of  her 
intellect  and  character.  Aside  from  her  inability 
to  recall  certain  particular  facts,  her  mind  was 
perfectly  healthy.  She  was  still  passionately 
fond  of  music.  She  read  constantly  and  seemed 
to  live  a  peaceful,  happy  life.  She  was  a  gentle 
and  loving  companion  for  Mrs.  Farrington,  of 
whose  devotion  to  her  you  are  aware. 

"  Speaking  of  Mrs.  Farrington,  let  me  say," 
continued  Harvey,  "  that  she  is  certainly  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  characters  I  have  ever  known. 
What  I  have  said  of  her  and  what  you  have  heard 
from  others,  probably,  present  her  only  in  rela 
tion  to  her  devotion  to  Ruth  Wardleigh  and 
Lloyd.  But  I  have  learned  to  know  her  in 
other  respects.  She  is  a  most  highly  cultivated 
woman,  and  her  sympathy  and  charity  are 
boundless.  Her  means  are  limited, — indeed,  she 
now  depends  upon  Lloyd  for  everything,  except 
that  Miss  Ruth  has  a  small  income  which  goes 


2i6    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

towards  the  expenses  of  the  household.  But 
Judge  Tremwick,  who  is  well  to  do  and  very 
charitable,  and  whose  wife  is  an  invalid,  has 
made  his  sister,  Mrs.  Farrington,  his  almoner. 
It  is  to  my  own  knowledge  that  there  are  quite 
a  number  of  young  men  and  young  women  who 
are  being  assisted  by  her  in  their  course  through 
the  University,  and  I  know,  too,  that  many  a 
poor  widow  has  had  Mrs.  Farrington's  helping 
hand  and  tender  care.  In  all  her  work  she  has 
had  the  active  advice,  sympathy,  and  assistance 
of  Miss  Wardleigh.  I  have  always  encouraged 
Ruth  to  go  out  on  such  missions,  for  professional 
reasons  which  will  be  obvious  to  you  now  that 
you  know  her  story.  So  it  is  that  while  her  life 
has  been  comparatively  quiet,  it  has  not  been 
dull  or  uninteresting.  But  to  return  to  my  pro 
fessional  story — I  might  say  romance. 

"  It  is  now  just  a  year  since  I  began  to  notice 
a  change  in  my  patient.  She  became  very  ner 
vous  and  had  a  troubled,  anxious  look  in  her 
eyes.  I  was  greatly  worried  from  the  moment 
that  I  observed  the  change.  I  questioned  Mrs. 
Farrington  closely.  She  said  that  Ruth's  gen 
eral  health  appeared  to  be  as  good  as  usual ;  that 
she  did  not  complain  of  any  pain,  but  that  her 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY         2I7 

sleep  was  not  restful.  She  frequently  talked 
in  her  slumbers,  though  her  dreams,  if  dreams 
they  were,  seemed  pleasant,  even  joyful.  Mrs. 
Farrington  said  that  she  often  went  into  Ruth's 
room  and  watched  her  as  she  lay  asleep,  and  was 
struck  by  the  expression  of  contentment  and 
happiness  which  had  taken  the  place  of  the  deep 
shadow  of  sadness  that  had  so  constantly  rested 
there  since  the  tragedy. 

"  I  examined  Ruth  closely.  There  was  no 
trace  of  any  organic  trouble.  I  questioned  her, 
and  she  insisted  that  she  was  perfectly  well. 
Yet,  as  the  weeks  passed  (I  was  in  the  habit  of 
visiting  them  on  Sunday)  I  felt  that  she  was 
fading, — becoming,  if  I  may  use  the  expression, 
more  ethereal.  I  could  see  no  symptoms  of 
mental  disorder,  yet  I  feared  that  there  was 
some  impending  brain-trouble.  I  increased  my 
efforts  to  induce  her  to  take  an  active  interest — 
to  actively  participate  in  the  charitable  work  of 
Mrs.  Farrington.  I  was  not  successful.  She 
became  listless  and  even  indifferent,  though  she 
sought  by  every  means  in  her  power  to  show 
that  her  love  for  Mrs.  Farrington  had  not 
abated  in  the  least. 

"  She  became  unusually  reticent,  timid,  and 


2i8    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

as  we  would  say  of  a  child,  bashful.  Once  or 
twice  while  I  was  talking  to  her,  or  rather  when 
she  was  answering  my  questions,  she  blushed, 
not  at  anything  I  suggested  or  that  she  had  said, 
but  apparently  at  her  own  thoughts. 

"What  could  I  think,  say,  or  do?  The 
case  was  deeper  than  my  science.  I  gave  her 
some  simple  drugs  for  nervousness,  not  expect 
ing  to  do  more  than  to  prevent  secondary 
trouble.  The  change  that  had  come  over  Ruth 
was  utterly  inexplicable  to  me.  I  was  in  great 
fear  that  it  portended  some  brain-trouble.  My 
science,  my  experience,  and  my  judgment  were 
at  fault.  At  length  I  became  satisfied  that  she 
was  withholding  something  from  me.  How 
could  I  form  a  safe  conclusion  unless  I  could 
know  all  of  the  facts?  I  talked  it  over  with 
Mrs.  Farrington.  She  agreed  with  me.  '  Do 
you  know,  doctor/  said  she,  '  that  Ruth  acts  pre 
cisely  as  if  she  were  in  love.' 

"  '  Perhaps  she  is/  I  replied,  laughingly. 

" '  Then  it  must  be  with  some  one  in  her 
dreams/  said  she,  seriously,  and  with  a  signifi 
cance  that  startled  me.  '  I  say  this  because  for 
some  months  she  has  been  my  constant  com 
panion.  Not  that  I  have  attempted  any  sur- 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY         2IQ 

veillance,  but  she  has  not  cared  to  go  out  without 
me,  nor  with  me  when  there  has  been  a  likeli 
hood  that  we  would  meet  people.  She  has  had 
no  company.' 

*  Is  she  acquainted  with  any  one  in  whom 
she  would  be  likely  to  be  interested  ?'  I  inquired. 
'  I  ask  this,'  I  added,  '  because  I  frankly  confess 
that  your  suggestion  impresses  me  very  strongly.' 

"  '  No,  no/  replied  Lloyd's  mother,  with  a 
depth  of  tenderness  in  her  voice  and  a  far-away 
look  in  her  eyes ;  '  no,  no,  I  am  absolutely  cer 
tain  that  there  is  no  one  in  the  wide  world  ex 
cept  my  son  who  is  anything  to  her  in  that  way, 
and  him  she  has  forgotten,  at  least  in  her  waking 
and  conscious  life.' 

"  The  concluding  remark  of  Mrs.  Farrington 
suggested  to  my  mind  the  possibility  of  a  men 
tal  or  spiritual  experience  on  the  part  of  my  pa 
tient  which  I  determined  to  investigate,  how 
ever  improbable  it  might  seem. 

"  To  this  end  I  quickly  determined  to  be  en 
tirely  frank  with  Ruth  in  the  hope  of  inducing 
her  to  be  equally  frank  with  me.  I  said  as  much 
to  Mrs.  Farrington,  and  she  agreed  that  it  would 
be  best  for  me  to  talk  with  her  earnestly  and 
seriously.  She  sent  Ruth  to  me. 


220    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

" '  Miss  Ruth/  said  I,  '  please  pardon  what 
may  seem  to  be  mere  curiosity — perhaps  imper 
tinent  curiosity — on  my  part.  But  I  really  wish 
you  to  tell  me  what  it  is  that  has  been  troubling 
your  mind  for  some  time.  You  know  that  for 
more  than  four  years,  at  the  earnest  desire  of 
your  brother,  I  have  been  attending  you.  I 
know  that  you  have  always  insisted  that  you 
were  not  ill,  and  I  have  always  encouraged  you 
in  that  belief.  Yet,  during  all  this  time  I  have 
known  that  you  were  in  imminent  danger  of 
serious  mental  disorder — disease.'  As  I  said 
this  she  sat  with  lips  apart,  with  a  look  of  deep 
distress  in  her  dark  eyes.  She  was  not,  how 
ever,  offended.  I  determined  to  cut  deeply;  to 
be  cruel  with  the  hope  of  arousing  her  to  the 
necessity  of  opening  her  mind  to  me. 

"  *  Although  you  do  not  remember,'  I  con 
tinued,  '  it  is  nevertheless  quite  true  that  some 
thing  over  five  years  ago,  at  the  time  of  the 
terrible  accident  which  caused  the  death  of  your 
parents,  of  which  you  have  been  told,  you  were 
very  ill  and  threatened  with  permanent  brain- 
disease.  This  danger  has  not  yet  passed,  though 
I  believe  that  it  can  and  will  be  averted.  Re 
cently  I  have  noticed  a  change  in  you  which 


221 

greatly  distresses  me  and  I  insist  that  you  keep 
nothing  from  me.' 

" '  What  is  it  that  you  observe  about  me, 
doctor?'  she  inquired,  gently  and  hesita 
tingly. 

"  I  told  her  all  that  I  had  noticed,  and  I  then 
quoted  what  Mrs.  Farrington  had  said  in  regard 
to  her  acting  as  if  she  were  in  love  with  some 
one.  I  did  not,  of  course,  add  what  Mrs.  Far 
rington  had  said  in  regard  to  her  implicit  belief 
that  Ruth  had  never  loved  any  one  but  Lloyd. 
I  therefore  felt  half  ashamed  of  myself  for 
having  practically  misquoted  Mrs.  Farrington. 
I  started  to  say  that  of  course  Mrs.  Farrington 
was  only  joking,  but  I  did  not  proceed.  It  was 
so  necessary  to  arouse  her  in  some  way  that  I 
let  the  matter  stand  at  that. 

"  She  had  bowed  her  head  in  her  hands  as 
she  sat  half  reclining  on  an  ottoman.  Suddenly 
she  looked  up  with  tears  in  her  beautiful  eyes 
and  said, — 

"  '  Dr.  Guthrie,  though  you  and  my  dearest 
friend,  Mrs.  Farrington,  are  seemingly  unkind, 
yet  I  know  that  both  of  you  mean  it  for  my 
good.' 

"  Her  words  cut  me  to  the  quick.    '  Yes/  said 


222    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

I,  '  believe  me,  Miss  Ruth,  our  only  desire  is 
for  your  welfare.' 

'  Listen,  then/  said  she,  '  and  I  will  tell  you 
all :  For  some  time  now  I  have  had,  at  frequent 
intervals,  the  most  realistic  and  vivid  dreams,  if 
dreams  they  can  be  called.  It  seems  to  me  that 
my  soul  leaves  my  body  and  that  I  travel  far 
away  to  an  arid  and  treeless  land,  which  ap 
pears  to  me  like  descriptions  I  have  read  of  Mex 
ico.  Yet  the  people  that  I  see  there  are  our  own 
people.  I  am  drawn  particularly  to  one  for 
whose  companionship  my  soul  yearns.  I  am 
not  ashamed  to  confess  that  I  am  in  love, — in 
love  with  this  man  of  my  dreams,  since  I  never 
loved  any  one  else.  Ah,  doctor,'  she  exclaimed, 
with  the  utmost  simplicity,  '  he  is  so  handsome, 
and  though  he  does  not  know  me  and  I  have 
never  heard  him  speak,  I  am  sure  that  he  is  as 
true  and  as  good  as  he  is  handsome,  manly,  and 
dignified.  The  strangest  thing  about  it  all  is 
that  I  seem  to  have  known  him  before,  and  when 
I  have  these  visions  I  find  myself  trying  to  recall 
something  that  I  have  forgotten  about  him.' 

"  Judge  of  my  astonishment,  Mark,"  contin 
ued  Dr.  Guthrie,  after  a  short  pause,  "  when  I 
heard  this  strange  story.  It  seemed  utterly  in- 


THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY         223 

credible,  and  yet  it  appeared  so  real.  When  I 
came  to  reflect  about  it  afterwards  it  did  not 
seem  altogether  improbable.  She  had  known 
and  loved  Lloyd,  and  the  impressions  of  that  ex 
perience,  of  those  emotions,  were  no  doubt  im 
pressed  upon  her  mind  and  spiritual  conscious 
ness,  if  you  please,  though  now  obscured  by  the 
delusion  to  which  she  had  been  subjected.  Why 
should  she  not  be  able  unwittingly  to  return  to 
those  impressions  while  in  the  state  of  uncon 
sciousness?  True,  she  spoke  of  a  strange  land, 
describing  the  scenery  of  Arizona,  where  Lloyd 
was  sojourning.  But  she  must  have  heard 
Luke's  descriptions,  which  would  account  for 
that.  At  any  rate,  that  is  the  way  I  reasoned 
about  the  matter  at  the  time,  though  more  re 
cent  events  and  occurrences  in  this  remarkable 
case  have  led  me  to  doubt  my  own  physiological 
and  psychological  explanations. 

"  However,  at  the  very  time  of  my  conversa 
tion  I  became  well  satisfied  that  her  experience 
was  not  at  an  end.  I  deemed  it  prudent  there 
fore  to  remove  any  anxiety  or  apprehension  that 
my  inquiries  might  have  caused.  I  said  that 
vivid  dreams  were  not  unusual,  and  that  I  could 
see  no  evil  that  could  come  from  them.  Before 


224    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

leaving  I  found  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to 
Mrs.  Farrington.  '  She  sees  Lloyd  in  her 
dreams,'  said  I, '  and  the  recollection  of  her  early 
love  is  struggling  to  return.'  I  then  related 
what  Ruth  had  told  me,  and  cautioned  Mrs. 
Farrington  not  to  say  anything  to  her  of  the 
past. 

"  The  next  day  I  sent  over  a  drug  which 
caused  her  to  sleep  very  soundly,  and  which  re 
moved  the  extreme  nervousness  which  she  had 
shown  for  some  time.  I  kept  up  this  treatment 
for  several  weeks. 

"  About  that  time  Lloyd  Farrington  came  up. 
I  told  him  of  this  new  phase.  He  was  deeply 
affected,  and  particularly  when  I  ventured  to 
say  that  it  might  result  in  her  being  restored  to 
her  full  faculties  and  to  him. 

"  The  day  after  Lloyd's  arrival  I  visited  Ber 
keley,  and  Ruth  told  me  of  a  recurrence  of  her 
dream,  but  that  this  time  she  had  met  her  *  hero,' 
as  she  called  him,  nearer  home. 

"  And  now,  Mark,"  concluded  the  doctor, 
"  my  story  is  finished.  A  year  has  passed  with 
out  any  change.  From  time  to  time  Miss  Ward- 
leigh  has  told  me  of  the  strange  double  existence 
which  she  claims  she  is  living.  That  she  fre- 


THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY    225 

quently  has  visions  of  Lloyd  Farrington  while 
asleep  seems  certain.  The  problem  with  me  is' 
to  know  what  would  be  the  result  if  she  should' 
actually  meet  him  while  awake." 

"  Certainly,  Harvey,"  said  I,  after  consider 
ing  for  a  time  his  final  words,  "  this  is  the  most 
remarkable  case  of  mental  disease  of  which  I 
have  ever  heard.  Of  course  it  is  the  more  inter 
esting  because  relating  to  these  people  whom  we 
know,  and  in  the  web  of  whose  lives  we  have 
both  become  curiously  entangled.  But  what, 
then,  is  your  plan  ?  You  said  last  night  that  you 
thought  you  saw  a  solution  of  the  problem, — 
that  you  believed  you  could  cure  Ruth  Ward- 
leigh  and  restore  her  to  Lloyd  Farrington, 
How  do  you  propose  to  do  it?" 

"  The  shock  of  excessive  and  violent  grief," 
he  replied,  "  six  years  ago  produced  in  her  hys 
teria,  during  which  a  delusion, — a  mad  delu 
sion,  if  you  will — took  possession  of  her  mind 
and  left  an  impression  which  I  was  able  to  re 
move  only  at  the  expense  of  a  partial  effacement 
of  her  memory.  I  now  believe  that  if  I  can  pro 
duce  intense  mental  excitement  through  the  op 
posite  emotion  of  excessive  joy,  and  while  she 
is  in  that  state  if  I  can  suddenly  revive  the  recol- 
15 


226    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

lection  of  what  she  has  apparently  forgotten, 
there  will  occur  an  immediate  transfer  to  the 
normal  mental  state.  This  I  propose  to  do 
during  the  second  trial  of  Luke  Wardleigh,  if 
you  will  permit  and  assist  me." 

I  said  that  I  would,  and  we  then  discussed  the 
details  of  the  plan  at  some  length. 

It  was  now  late  and  I  was  about  to  go  home, 
when  the  door-bell  rang  and  a  telegram  was 
handed  to  the  doctor.  He  read  it  and  became 
quite  excited.  It  was  from  Dr.  Willis,  at  Mel 
ton,  and  read, — 

"  If  possible  come  up  to-morrow  morning. 
Miss  W.  prostrated  by  strange  excitement. 
Very  hysterical.  Appears  to  have  been  caused 
by  something  she  was  reading  in  Morning  Her 
ald." 

The  doctor  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then 
asked  me  if  I  could  get  a  telegram  rushed 
through  and  delivered  to  Willis.  I  said  that  I 
could,  and  that  if  he  would  write  it  I  would  take 
it  down  at  once.  He  wrote  a  message  saying 
that  he  wished  Willis  to  give  Miss  Ruth  a  par 
ticular  drug  that  night,  and  promising  to  go  up 


THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY         227 

in  the  morning.  He  also  advised  that  she  should 
not  attend  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Walton. 

As  I  arose  to  go  Harvey  picked  up  the  Herald, 
which  lay  upon  the  table,  saying,  "  Wait  a  mo 
ment;  let  us  see  if  we  can  discover  anything 
that  would  have  startled  her.  I  saw  nothing 
about  her  brother  in  the  paper." 

I  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and  in  a  moment 
caught  sight  of  a  local  item  to  which  I  called 
his  attention.  He  read  as  follows : 

1  Sergeant  Squires,  of  the  harbor  patrol,  be 
tween  one  and  two  o'clock  this  morning,  arrested 
three  men  at  the  Clay  Street  wharf.  Two  of 
them,  John  Dickey  and  Hiram  Jones,  are  well 
known  to  the  police.  The  third  man  is  thought 
to  be  an  escaped  convict.  They  were  caught  in 
the  act  of  trying  to  rob  and  murder  a  young 
man  who  had  employed  two  of  them  to  meet 
him  at  the  wharf  and  row  him  over  to  Oakland 
after  the  last  ferry.  The  two  pretended  boat 
men  picked  up  the  third  man,  and  when  the 
young  gentleman  came  they  assaulted  him.  For 
some  unexplained  reason  he  suspected  treachery 
and  notified  Sergeant  Squires.  When  the  des 
peradoes  made  the  attack  they  were  met  by  a 


228    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

flashing  pistol  in  the  hands  of  their  intended 
victim,  who  exhibited  so  much  coolness  and  ce 
lerity  in  handling  his  weapon  that  the  officers 
were  ardent  in  their  praise.  The  officers  who 
were  hiding  sprang  forward  and  handcuffed 
the  three  robbers.  The  name  of  the  young  man 
was  not  learned.' 

"  I  think  that  I  understand  it,"  said  the  doc 
tor,  when  he  had  finished  reading.  "  Ruth  has 
read  this  account  and  has  learned  that  the  man 
whom  she  has  seen  in  her  dreams  is  a  real  being. 
I  am  not  surprised  that  she  should  be  excited. 
It  was  fortunate  that  Lloyd's  name  was  not 
used.  I  shall  go  to  Melton  by  the  first  train  in 
the  morning." 

I  wished  him  a  safe  journey,  and  he  bade  me 
good-night. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

GUTHRIE   RETURNS   FROM    MELTON 

i 

I  DID  not  see  any  of  the  characters  of  this 
strange  drama  again  for  three  days;  not  until 
Thursday. 

In  the  mean  time  my  wife  returned  from.. 
Santa  Barbara,  and  on  Wednesday  she  and 
Marie  drove  over  to  Berkeley  to  call  on  Mrs. 
Farrington.  Jeanette  was  perfectly  delighted 
with  the  old  lady;  she  talked  of  her  incessantly 
when  she  came  home,  and  of  Miss  Edith  Jordan, 
whom  they  also  met  at  Mrs.  Farrington's. 
Marie  dined  with  us  at  the  hotel,  as  the  doctor 
was  away,  and  I  heard  them  planning  to  have 
that  young  person  over  to  meet  some  of  their 
gentlemen  friends.  I  said  nothing,  and  laughed 
to  myself.  If  they  only  knew  how  little  she 
cared  for  anybody  just  now,  save  the  one  whom 
she  had  got  into  trouble,  as  she  imagined. 

Thursday  morning  I  received  a  telegram  from 
Farrington  saying  that  he  would  be  at  home 
that  day  and  would  meet  me  the  next  afternoon 

229 


230    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

at  my  office.  Guthrie  reached  home  Wednesday 
night,  but  had  to  see  his  patients,  and  so  tele 
phoned  to  ask  Jeanette  and  me  to  spend  Thurs 
day  evening  with  them.  He  wanted  to  report 
to  me,  he  said.  After  dinner  Jeanette  and  I 
went  up  to  see  them. 

In  his  study,  alone  and  undisturbed,  we 
lighted  our  inevitable  cigars,  and  I  asked  the 
doctor  to  give  me  an  account  of  his  trip  to  Mel 
ton. 

"  You  will  remember,"  said  he,  "  that  I  had 
a  double  object  in  going  up, — two  patients  to 
see.  My  first  purpose  was  to  meet  Dr.  Willis 
in  consultation  over  the  case  of  Mrs.  Walton; 
but  when  he  wired  me  about  Ruth  Wardleigh 
my  interest  and  anxiety  centred  in  her. 

"  I  arrived  at  Melton  in  the  afternoon,  and 
found  a  messenger  awaiting  me  at  the  depot 
with  a  note  from  Willis  asking  me  to  meet  him 
at  the  Walton  residence  at  five  o'clock.  I  walked 
to  the  house,  which  proved  to  be  a  small,  pleasant 
home.  It  was,  however,  desolate  that  day.  The 
funeral  was  over,  but  several  friends  of  Mrs. 
Walton  were  still  there  to  render  any_service 
needed.  Willis  met  me  at  the  door  and  asked 
me  to  step  up  to  Miss  Ruth's  room.  As  she  was 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY         231 

my  patient,  he  saw  the  propriety  of  allowing  me 
to  see  her  alone;  so  he  said  that  he  desired  to 
see  Mrs.  Walton,  and  would  join  me  later. 

"  I  found  Ruth  sitting  by  a  window  overlook 
ing  a  pretty  flower-garden.  She  had  not  put 
on  mourning,  but  wore  a  dark  gown.  Though 
sad,  she  did  not  seem  very  nervous;  probably 
the  medicine  I  had  prescribed  by  telegraph  the 
night  before  had  proven  an  effective  sedative. 

"  '  Doctor,'  she  exclaimed,  rising  and  coming 
forward,  '  I  am  ever  so  glad  to  see  you.  I  feel 
oppressed  with  the  gloom  which  surrounds  this 
sad  home.  My  poor  sister  is  very  ill,  and  I  have 
had  a  shock  that  has  quite  unnerved  me.  Last 
night  I  was  all  but  distracted.  I  felt  that  I  must 
scream,  or  laugh,  or  die.  Just  think  of  it !  with 
my  sister's  dead  husband  lying  below !  Dr.  Wil 
lis  has  been  very  kind;  when  I  seemed  to  be 
getting  beyond  control  of  myself  he  came  with 
the  blessed  medicine  which  you  telegraphed  him 
to  give  me.  How  thoughtful  of  you!  I  can 
never  live  long  enough  to  thank  you  for  your 
attention  and  kindness.' 

" '  Yet,'  said  I,  '  you  seem  to  be  quite  well 
to-day  considering  your  unhappy  surround 
ings.' 


232    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

"  '  Yes,'  she  replied,  '  I  am  certainly  very 
much  better  this  afternoon.  I  slept  soundly  to 
wards  morning  and  long  into  the  forenoon.  I 
have  just  come  from  my  sister,  with  whom  I 
stayed  during  the  funeral  services.' 

"  '  Were  you  aware  of  the  telegram  which 
Dr.  Willis  sent  to  me  concerning  you?'  I  in 
quired. 

"  '  No,'  she  answered ;  '  though  of  course  I 
knew  he  must  have  communicated  with  you. 
What  did  he  say?' 

"  '  He  telegraphed  me,'  I  replied,  '  that  you 
were  thrown  into  a  violent  nervous  excitement 
by  reading  something  in  one  of  yesterday  morn 
ing's  papers.'  I  said  this  pointedly  in  order  to 
take  her  by  surprise  and  force  her  confidence. 
She  was  still  disposed  to  be  reticent  and  secre 
tive  notwithstanding  the  cordial  and  frank  rela 
tions  I  had  succeeded  in  establishing  between 
us  regarding  the  mental  aberration  I  was  study 
ing. 

"  '  How  strange,'  she  exclaimed,  '  that  Dr. 
Willis  or  any  one  should  have  discovered  it! 
Yet  it  was  so.'  She  paused  a  little,  and  then 
said,  '  On  Sunday  night  I  arrived  about  ten 
o'clock  and  was  met  at  the  depot  by  Dr.  Willis 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY         233 

and  his  wife,  who  was  a  schoolmate  of  mine 
when  I  was  a  child  in  this  town.  The  doctor 
told  me,  as  gently  as  possible,  of  the  death  of 
Robert  three  hours  earlier.  I  was  greatly 
shocked  and  distressed,  of  course,  and  deeply 
anxious  concerning  Grace.  Mrs.  Willis  wanted 
me  to  go  to  their  house,  but  I  felt  that  my  duty 
called  me  to  the  bedside  of  my  sister,  so  they 
drove  here  at  once.  Poor  Grace!  I  remained 
by  her  until  she  had  fallen  into  a  quiet  sleep,  and 
then  came  to  my  room  to  get  some  rest,  leaving 
word  with  the  nurse  to  call  me  if  there  should 
be  any  change  in  my  sister.  I  went  to  bed  and 
to  sleep  at  once.  It  must  have  been  about  one 

o'clock '  she  stopped,  and  seemed  to  be 

thinking  of  something  and  to  be  forgetful  that 
I  was  present.  Finally  I  said, — 

"'Well?' 

" '  Oh,  pardon  me,  doctor !'  she  exclaimed. 
'  I  am  losing  my  mind ;  where  was  I  ?  Yes,  I 
remember;  I  must  have  gone  to  San  Francisco 
at  once, — as  soon  as  my  body  was  asleep.  I  saw 
him  near  the  water.  He  was  about  to  take  a 
boat.  I  heard  the  men  talk.  They  were  going 
to  murder  him.  I  told  him  of  the  danger.  He 
listened,  though  he  did  not  know  who  it  was 


234    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

that  warned  him.  I  saw  him  go  to  the  police 
station,  and  then  I  lost  consciousness  and  must 
have  returned  to  my  sleep.' 

" '  Well,'  said  I,  as  she  ceased,  '  it  is  only 
another  one  of  your  strange  dreams.' 

" '  True/  she  responded,  '  only  another  dream. 
But  now  please  read  that.'  She  handed  me  a 
copy  of  the  paper  containing  the  local  item 
which  you  and  I  read.  '  I  tell  you,  Dr.  Guthrie/ 
she  exclaimed,  *  the  strange  dreams,  as  you  call 
them,  are  phases  of  my  actual  life.  This  is  the 
dream;  that  is  the  reality.  Oh,  when  will  I 
awake!  When  will  I  awake!'  She  was  much 
excited  and  I  was  greatly  worried. 

"  '  Miss  Ruth,'  said  I,  '  let  me  beg  of  you  to 
be  calm  and  to  think  no  more  of  this  matter  for 
a  few  days.  You  know  how  anxious  I  am  for 
your  physical  and  mental  health.  These  sad 
surroundings  have  unnerved  you  and ' 

"  '  Please,  doctor,'  she  interrupted,  with  some 
petulancy,  '  don't  treat  me  like  a  child.  I  will 
obey  you  as  far  as  I  can,  but  be  candid,  please, 
and  deal  with  me  as  a  rational  being.' 

"  '  I  thank  you  for  the  reproof,'  I  replied ; 
'  you  are  right.  It  is  my  duty  to  be  as  frank  and 
candid  with  you  as  I  ask  you  to  be  with  me. 


Of 

UNIVERSITY    I 
THE   SEQuV^TO   A   TRAGEDY         235 

Listen,  then:  you  believe  now  that  the  man 
whom  you  have  seen  in  these  visions  and  to 
wards  whom  you  feel  yourself  so  strangely 
drawn  actually  lives?' 

"I  do/  she  answered,  with  flushed  cheeks 
and  moistened  eyes. 

'  Very  well ;  it  is  a  mystery.  I  have  no  ex 
planations;  I  dispute  nothing.  I  offer  to  help 
you  to  solve  the  mystery.  Are  you  willing  that 
I  should  try?' 

"  '  By  all  means,  doctor,  by  all  means !'  she 
exclaimed,  confidence  and  gratitude  beaming  in 
her  face. 

'  I  will  do  it,'  said  I,  assuming  an  air  of 
confidence  I  did  not  feel.  I  fully  appreciated 
the  fact  that  I  had  entered  an  unknown  field  of 
inquiry  and  that  I  was  about  to  undertake  a 
dangerous  experiment.  '  I  will  do  it,'  I  repeated, 
'  upon  condition  that  you  dismiss  the  subject 
from  your  mind  for  a  few  days,  and  until  you 
return  to  the  city.' 

"  '  Ah,  Dr.  Guthrie,'  she  answered,  '  you  are 
requiring  too  much  of  me.  You  ask  me  to  for 
get, — to  dismiss  from  my  mind  the  one  subject, 
if  you  so  call  my  visions,  that  fills  my  thoughts 
and  my  heart.'  As  she  said  this  her  face  was 


236    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

suffused  with  a  delicate  blush  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  '  No,  no,  Dr.  Guthrie/  she  ex 
claimed  again,  '  I  cannot  forget  him !  I  cannot 
forget  him!'  and  she  covered  her  face  and  wept 
softly. 

"  I  was  much  worried,"  continued  Harvey, 
"  and  began  to  fear  hysteria.  I  saw  that  I  must 
change  my  plan.  Instead  of  attempting  to  divert 
her  attention  from  the  absorbing  and  overwhelm 
ing  passion  that  had  now  taken  possession  of  her 
mind  and  heart,  I  concluded  that  it  would  be 
best  to  talk  with  her  freely  and  to  lead  her  mind 
gradually  to  the  climax  which  we  have  in  con 
templation." 

"  But,  Harvey,"  said  I,  interrupting  his 
strange  narrative,  "  are  you  not  afraid  that  the 
strain  will  be  too  great  and  that  the  shock 
may " 

"  For  God's  sake,  Mark,"  he  exclaimed,  "  do 
not  speak  of  it!  I  am  all  but  crazed  myself  by 
anxiety.  But  according  to  my  best  professional 
judgment  the  chances  are  more  than  favorable. 
She  is  remarkably  strong  physically,  and,  though 
it  may  sound  strange,  she  is  intellectually  strong 
and  well  balanced.  What  we  are  going  to  do  in 
effect  is  to  perform  an  operation  on  her  brain.  I 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY         237 

am  acting,  as  I  say,  according  to  my  best  profes 
sional  judgment;  and  all  that  I  can  do  beyond 
that  is  to  hope  and  pray" — he  spoke  reverently 
— "  for  a  successful  result." 

I  was  deeply  touched  by  his  words,  and  I  has 
tened  to  assure  him  of  my  utmost  confidence  in 
him  and  of  my  belief  that  Mrs.  Farrington, 
Lloyd,  and  Luke  Wardleigh  would  in  any  event 
hold  him  blameless.  I  then  begged  him  to  pro 
ceed  with  the  account  of  his  interview  with  Miss 
Wardleigh. 

"  Having  seen  the  necessity  of  changing  my 
plan,"  said  he,  "  I  determined  to  direct  her  at 
tention  to  the  possibility  that  she  was  only 
dreaming  of  some  one  that  she  really  knew. 
After  all,  that  was  the  simple  fact.  To  use  a 
paradox,  she  did  know  Lloyd  Farrington, 
though  she  did  not  know  that  she  did.  It  is 
true  that  her  strange  clairvoyant  experience, 
and  that  of  Lloyd  Farrington,  which  was  still 
stranger,  were  almost  beyond  rational  belief. 
Yet  who  that  has  studied  the  mysteries  of  life 
will  presume  to  measure  or  limit  the  powers  of 
the  astral  body?" 

"  I  do  not  pretend  to  understand  your  ideas, 
Harvey,"  said  I,  "  but  I  will  not  question  your 


238    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

conclusions.  Did  you  go  into  the  matter  in 
your  further  conversation  with  Miss  Ward- 
leigh?"  I  asked  the  question  because  I  saw 
that  he  was  disposed  to  philosophize  and  solilo 
quize,  while  I  was  curious  and  anxious  to  hear 
more  of  the  actual  experience  of  his  patient. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  cannot  say  that  I  did 
discuss  the  matter  with  her  in  the  deeper  sense 
in  which  it  presents  itself  to  me  now.  I  merely 
asked  her  to  relate  again  all  of  the  particulars 
of  her  visions.  She  did  so,  but  there  was  noth 
ing  beyond  what  she  had  told  me  before,  as  I 
have  heretofore  related  it  to  you, — that  is  to  say, 
except  some  interesting  and  touching  details. 
She  dwelt,  for  instance,  with  more  particularity 
upon  the  vague  and  flitting  impression  that  the 
hero  of  her  dreams  was  some  one  whom  she 
had  once  known. 

"  '  It  may  be  so/  I  suggested  to  her  tenta 
tively. 

"  '  How  can  it  be?'  she  asked,  with  a  puzzled 
and  anxious  look  in  her  eyes.  I  was  afraid  to 
pursue  the  subject. 

"  '  At  any  rate,'  said  I,  pointedly,  '  it  would 
seem  from  this  last  experience  that  the  man  who 
has  won  your  heart  in  your  dreams  is  an  actual 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A   TRAGEDY         239 

person.  It  is  a  mystery  which  must  be  solved 
for  the  happiness  of  your  life,  and  perhaps  for 
the  safety  of  your  mind.  I  have  given  you  my 
pledge  to  solve  the  mystery,  and  I  will  do  it 
before  many  days  have  passed.' 

'  Ah,  Dr.  Guthrie,'  said  she,  '  you  are  the 
dearest  and  noblest  man  I  have  ever  known,  out 
side  of  my  dreams, — at  least  I  think  so.'  She 
said  this  in  a  confused  way,  with  a  gentle  smile 
and  a  far-away  look  in  her  eyes. 

'  Now,'  said  I,  '  we  must  lay  our  plans.  In 
the  first  place,  I  am  to  have  your  absolute  confi 
dence  and  implicit  obedience ' 

"  '  That  is  to  say,'  she  exclaimed,  '  provided 
you  do  not  require  impossibilities  of  me.' 

"  '  I  understand,'  said  I.  '  You  will  not  en 
gage  to  dismiss  the  subject  of  your  dreams  from 
your  mind.' 

" '  I  simply  cannot,'  she  assured  me,  with 
some  emphasis. 

"  '  You  must,  however,  have  no  more  visions. 
I  will  leave  you  medicine  that  will  prevent  it.' 
As  I  said  this  a  look  of  sad  disappointment 
swept  for  a  moment  over  her  face,  but  she  imme 
diately  looked  at  me  with  confidence  and  said 
that  I  knew  best. 


240    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

"  '  When  will  you  return  to  the  city  ?"  she  in 
quired. 

"  '  To-morrow/  I  answered;   '  and  you?' 

"  '  Oh,  that  will  depend  upon  the  condition 
of  Grace.' 

"  '  From  something  I  have  heard,  I  think  that 
you  should  be  in  the  city  on  Monday,'  I  said. 

"  '  Why,  what  will  occur  on  Monday  ?' 

"  '  Luke's  second  trial,'  I  replied.  My  object 
was  to  create  a  degree  of  anxiety  in  her  mind 
concerning  her  brother,  so  as  to  concentrate  her 
attention  upon  that  matter  as  well  as  upon  the 
subject  we  had  been  discussing.  '  For  his  sake,' 
I  continued,  '  and  in  order  to  express  your  con 
fidence  in  him,  you  should  attend  the  court.'  I 
had  another  object  also.  I  intended  to  stimulate 
such  anxiety  in  order  that  a  revulsion  of  feeling 
might  occur.  It  was,  as  you  know,  a  part  of  my 
plan. 

"  '  If  you  think  so,  I  will  certainly  go/  she 
said,  with  interest  and  enthusiasm.  Just  then 
Dr.  Willis  came  to  the  door ;  she  bade  him  enter, 
and  added,  '  That  is,  if  I  can  leave  Grace.  How 
is  she,  Dr.  Willis  ?  Can  I  go  to  the  city  on  Sun 
day?' 

"  '  She  is  much  better/  he  replied,  '  and  if  she 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY         241 

continues  to  improve,  as  I  think  she  will,  you 
can  safely  go  by  that  time.' 

"  As  I  expected  to  return  by  the  early  morn 
ing  train,  I  promised  to  call  again  that  evening, 
and  at  Dr.  Willis's  suggestion  we  went  down  to 
see  Mrs.  Walton. 

"  I  found  Mrs.  Walton,"  he  continued,  "  very 
weak  and  emaciated.  She  had  been  ill  for  sev 
eral  months  and  had  suffered  greatly.  For  many 
weeks  she  had  been  unable  to  retain  any  food  in 
her  stomach.  After  a  careful  examination  Wil 
lis  and  I  withdrew  for  our  consultation. 

"  I  learned  from  him  the  full  particulars  of 
her  ailment.  At  first,  as  he  told  me,  he  could 
form  no  conclusion  as  to  the  disease.  Then  he 
determined  that  she  had  a  cancer  of  the  stomach. 
She  had  certainly  shown  many  symptoms  to  jus 
tify  this  conclusion,  but  there  were  some  things 
that  led  him  to  doubt  this  diagnosis :  more  espe 
cially  of  recent  days.  Instead  of  growing  worse, 
as  he  expected,  she  was  getting  better,  and  she 
suffered  less. 

"  I  will  not  weary  you,  Mark,"  continued  Har 
vey,  "  with  the  details  of  our  discussion.  Suffice 
that  we  came  to  the  deliberate  conclusion  that 
Mrs.  Walton  was  not  afflicted  with  the  mortal 
16 


242    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

complaint  which  Willis  had  supposed,  and  that 
she  could  and  most  probably  would  be  cured.  Do 
you  know,  Mark,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that  I  could 
not  get  out  of  my  mind  during  this  discussion 
that  queer  fellow  on  the  Oakland  boat.  He  told 
me  about  his  '  gal/  as  he  called  her,  and  how  she 
declared  a  supposed  case  of  cancer,  of  which  she 
knew,  to  be  nothing  but  worry  and  '  shay  grin.' ': 

"  I  remember.  You  gave  me  an  account  of 
the  conversation,"  said  I.  "By  the  bye,  did  you 
happen  to  meet  your  acquaintance  at  Melton?" 

"  Why,  yes,  I  did ;  I  saw  him  twice  on  the 
street.  What  in  the  world  led  you  to  ask  the 
question?  I  have  said  nothing  about  his  being 
or  belonging  there." 

I  commenced  to  laugh,  but  Harvey  was  utterly 
nonplussed. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  not  to  keep  you  in  sus 
pense,  that  queer  fellow,  as  you  term  him,  was 
none  other  than  Lloyd  Farrington  in  disguise.  I 
knew  it  when  you  told  me  of  your  meeting  him 
on  the  ferry,  but  I  was  not  at  liberty  to  disclose 
his  identity.  It  became  necessary  for  him  to  go  to 
Melton,  and  he  assumed  the  disguise  in  order 
that  he  might  avoid  the  possibility  of  being  rec 
ognized." 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 


243 


Guthrie  expressed  great  surprise  and  was  con 
siderably  put  out  by  this  discovery.  "  But," 
said  he,  "  I  have  such  implicit  confidence  in 
Lloyd  that  I  know  he  had  sufficient  reasons  for 
not  making  himself  known  to  me."  Then,  after 
pausing  for  a  few  moments,  he  continued,  "  I 
see  it  all  now.  He  knew  that  I  was  going  to 
Melton  to  meet  Willis  in  consultation  in  Mrs. 
.Walton's  case.  His  object  in  telling  me  his 
yarn  about  his  '  gal'  was  to  give  me  a  sugges 
tion.  His  imaginary  '  gal'  correctly  diagnosed 
Grace  Walton's  case.  I  am  satisfied  that  she 
knew  the  secret  concerning  her  husband,  of 
which  we  have  knowledge.  Her  peculiar  ill 
ness  was  the  result  of  mental  anguish.  Now 
that  Robert  Walton  is  dead,  I  believe  she  will 
recover." 

"  I  certainly  hope  so,"  I  assented,  "  particu 
larly  on  account  of  her  brother,  who  is  less  the 
victim  of  circumstantial  evidence,  as  we  have 
been  saying,  than  of  an  heroic  disposition  to 
sacrifice  himself  to  save  her.  It  would  be 
Heaven's  justice  if  they  can  be  reunited." 

"  Then  if  your  plans  succeed  in  regard  to 
Miss  Ruth?"  said  I. 

"  Say  our  plans,"  interrupted  Harvey,  "  for 


244    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

I  am  depending  upon  you  for  the  dramatic  ar 
rangements  and  startling  surprises  which  are 
so  essential  to  effect  the  result  I  am  seeking." 

His  words  suggested  a  new  idea  to  me. 

"  Did  Miss  Wardleigh  speak  of  the  incident 
at  the  ferry-landing,"  I  asked,  "  when  I  was 
with  Farrington, — the  night  you  returned  from 
the  East?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  "  she  gave  me  quite  a 
vivid  account  of  her  attempt  to  warn  her  '  dream 
land  hero,'  as  she  called  him.  You  told  me  about 
it,  but  she  assumed  to  give  more  particulars." 

"  Relate  just  what  she  did  say,"  said  I. 

"  She  told  me,"  replied  Harvey,  "  that  she 
saw  Lloyd,  though  she  did  not  mention  him  by 
name,  of  course,  and  saw  a  man  lurking  about 
with  the  intention  of  doing  him  some  harm. 
She  did  not  pretend  to  understand,  nor  did  she 
even  mention  the  fact  that  her  sympathetic 
powers  were  so  quickened  that  she  seemed  to 
be  able  to  divine  the  purposes  of  those  she  saw. 

"  '  I  was  startled,'  she  said,  '  at  the  sight  of  a 
desperate  villain  who  was  following  him.  I 
knew  instinctively  that  he  was  pursuing  my 
hero  with  the  intention  to  murder  him.  I  felt 
impelled  to  give  him  warning.  It  then  seemed 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY         245 

to  me  that  I  sought  to  fix  the  appearance  of  the 
would-be  assassin  in  my  mind  so  that  I  could 
describe  him.  It  was  not  difficult.  He  had  a 
sanguinary  and  sinister  face.  I  should  know  it 
if  I  should  see  it  again  among  thousands.  Never 
shall  I  forget  the  dreadful  red  mark  on  his 
cheek.'  " 

"  Enough,  Harvey !"  I  exclaimed.  "  I  see 
how  our  plans  can  be  greatly  aided  by  this  cir 
cumstance, — that  is  to  say,  if  my  suggestion 
meets  your  approval.  Rolla  Clanton  is  now  a 
prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  United  States  mar 
shal,  and  for  the  present  is  subject  to  my  con 
trol." 

I  then  laid  my  suggestion  before  Harvey,  and 
he  accepted  it  without  hesitation. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE    SOLUTION    OF    THE    WARDLEIGH    CASE 

"  WELL,  Farrington,"  said  I,  as  he  entered 
my  office  Friday,  "  I  hope  that  you  have  been 
successful." 

:<  You  shall  judge  when  you  have  heard  my 
report,"  he  replied. 

"  Have  you  seen  Dr.  Guthrie  since  your  re 
turn?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes ;  I  came  over  early  this  morning  and 
have  just  left  him.  He  informed  me  that  he 
told  you  the  particulars  of  his  visit  to  Melton. 
I  was  afraid  that  he  would  be  annoyed  at  my  dis 
guising  myself  from  him,  but  he  was  not." 

I  then  went  over  with  Farrington  all  the  de 
tails  of  Luke  Wardleigh's  case.  He  had  suc 
ceeded  in  collecting  the  proof  which  explained 
away  the  inculpating  circumstances,  and  to  my 
mind  clearly  established  Wardleigh's  innocence. 
I  had  had  no  doubt  of  it  from  the  hour  that  Miss 
Jordan  had  given  her  version  of  the  testimony. 
But  my  opinion  was  a  mere  moral  conviction; 
246 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY         247 

Farrington  was  now  able  to  supply  the  legal  evi 
dence. 

The  facts  relating  to  the  case  and  to  the  re 
markable  miscarriage  of  justice  on  the  first 
trial,  as  I  at  length  understood  them,  were  these : 

Luke  Wardleigh,  who  had  left  the  service 
of  Wells,  Fargo  &  Co.,  paid  his  twin  sister  Grace 
a  visit  at  Melton  some  four  months  before  his 
arrest.  He  found  her  in  very  poor  health. 
She  appeared  to  be  unaccountably  depressed, 
and  at  times  suffered  great  agony  of  mind  and 
body.  He  was  much  worried  and  was  unwill 
ing  to  leave  her.  He  therefore  offered  to  re 
main  and  assist  Robert  Walton,  his  brother-in- 
law,  in  the  post-office.  Walton  accepted  his 
offer,  and  appointed  him  assistant  postmaster. 

About  two  months  after  he  had  taken  charge 
of  the  office  he  received  an  earnest  request  from 
one  of  the  division  superintendents  of  the  ex 
press  company,  under  whom  he  had  served  and 
who  had  implicit  confidence  in  him,  to  go  to 
'Arizona  and  straighten  out  a  tangle  in  one  of 
their  offices.  Farrington  was  then  in  the  service 
of  the  government,  and  was  at  a  distant  point. 
Luke  consented,  and  was  absent  three  weeks. 
While  he  was  away  his  place  was  taken  by  a 


248    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

schoolmate  of  his,  Abel  Willard,  a  law  student, 
who  was  a  keen,  bright  fellow.  It  was  during 
this  period  of  absence  that  the  rifling  of  letters 
in  the  office  ceased,  as  was  shown  on  the  trial, — 
a  fact  which  strongly  tended  to  connect  Ward- 
leigh  with  the  crime. 

Robert  Walton,  who  bore  a  good  character  in 
Melton  and  the  surrounding  country,  was  never 
theless  a  man  of  secret  vices.  He  drank  heavily, 
though  he  was  never  intoxicated  in  public.  He 
had  a  passion  for  cards,  and  often  gambled 
among  a  few  companions  who  knew  his  weak 
ness  and  who  profited  by  it.  He  was,  however, 
a  devoted  husband. 

Farrington  discovered  that  Walton  was  deeply 
embarrassed  and,  at  the  time  of  Luke's  arrest, 
threatened  with  an  attachment  for  a  trifling  debt 
owing  to  a  man  in  Raymond,  thirty  miles  above 
Melton,  on  the  railroad.  Farrington  went  to 
Raymond,  and  learned  that  on  the  day  preceding 
the  arrest  Walton  had  run  up  on  the  noon  train 
and  had  made  a  small  payment, — the  sum  cor 
responding  with  the  amount  which  was  taken 
from  the  letters  which  had  recently  been  rifled. 

Lloyd  disclosed  his  official  character  to  young 
Willard,  and  learned  from  him  that  on  the  first 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY         249 

day  after  he  took  Wardleigh's  place  he  saw  that 
some  one  had  disturbed  the  registered  letters,  for 
which  he  had  receipted  and  for  which  he  was 
responsible.  He  did  not  suspect  Walton,  but 
feared  that  some  one  else  might  have  access  to 
the  office,  and  so  kept  a  keen  watch  during  the 
whole  time  he  was  there,  locking  the  packages 
in  another  desk,  of  which  he  had  the  sole  key. 
It  is  likely  that  Walton  thought  that  he  was  sus 
pected  and  desisted  from  his  thefts. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  post-office  in 
spectors  prepared  four  decoy  letters;  that  one 
of  them,  addressed  to  Raymond,  was  mailed  on 
an  earlier  train  than  the  others.  It  reached 
Melton  in  the  morning  preceding  the  day  of 
Wardleigh's  arrest,  and  went  to  Raymond  by 
the  noon  train.  I  did  not  include  this  letter  in  my 
indictment,  supposing  that  I  had  sufficient  with 
out  it.  On  the  trial  it  was  proven  that  Ward- 
leigh  was  not  in  the  office  during  the  forenoon, 
and  only  returned  after  the  north-bound  mail 
had  been  made  up  for  the  twelve  o'clock  train. 
The  letter  was  found  at  Raymond,  by  Mr  Smith- 
son,  one  of  the  inspectors,  rifled  as  all  of  the 
others  were.  It  could  not  have  been  opened  by 
Luke  Wardleigh.  It  was  the  discovery  of  the 


250    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

facts  connected  with  this  decoy  letter,  on  the 
day  after  the  trial  and  after  my  interview  with 
Farrington  the  night  before,  that  determined  my 
subsequent  action. 

But  the  most  curious  circumstance  in  the  case 
was  the  explanation  of  the  finding  by  the  inspec 
tors  of  a  piece  of  the  marked  coin  which  had  been 
enclosed  in  one  of  the  "  test"  letters.  Kenton 
had  foolishly  insisted  that  the  inspectors  had 
dexterously  slipped  the  piece  into  Luke's  pocket 
while  pretending  to  search  him.  This  reacted 
against  his  client, — at  least  in  the  mind  of  the 
judge. 

Farrington's  investigations  and  the  witnesses 
produced  by  him  showed  that  Walton  had  pur 
chased  a  couple  of  cigars  at  a  stand  near  by; 
that  later  in  the  day  Luke  bought  cigars  at 
the  same  place.  The  dealer,  an  old  German 
of  methodical  habits,  kept  a  blotter  in  which  he 
entered  all  sales  to  his  customers,  whether  for 
credit  or  cash.  This  book,  which  was  produced 
in  court,  contained  in  a  scrawling  hand  these 
entries  in  pencil :  "  Mr.  Valton  4  cigars,  4  bits 
—no  change."  And  farther  down :  "  Mr.  Vord- 
ley  2  cigars,  2  bits;  paid  i  dollar,  6  bits 
change." 


THE   SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY         251 

Robert  Walton,  before  he  died,  revived  suffi 
ciently  to  make  a  confession  to  Abel  Willard, 
who  had  taken  Luke's  place  in  the  office  again, 
and  who  assisted  in  removing  Walton  to  his' 
home  from  the  depot  when  he  arrived  from  Sac 
ramento  in  a  dying  condition.  Willard  reduced 
this  confession  to  writing;  Walton  signed  it, 
in  a  familiar  bold  hand,  and  fell  back  dead. 
Lloyd  took  Wil lard's  statement  as  to  the  cir 
cumstances  and  swore  him  to  the  truth  of  it. 

When  Farrington  finished  his  account  of  what 
he  had  learned  at  Melton,  which  was  frequently 
interrupted  by  me  as  I  explained  matters  not 
known  to  him,  I  said, — 

"  Certainly  the  case  of  circumstantial  evidence 
against  Wardleigh,  which  I  declared  to  be  over 
whelming  and  entirely  conclusive,  is  now  utterly 
demolished.  Of  course  I  would  be  justified  in 
dismissing  the  prosecution  at  once,  but  that 
would  not  be  fair  to  your  friend.  He  is  entitled 
to  be  vindicated  by  a  verdict  of  acquittal.  At 
any  rate,  I  have  determined  to  take  that  course." 
I  did  not  think  it  best  to  disclose  to  Farrington 
at  that  time  the  plan  which  Dr.  Guthrie  and  I 
had  arranged  with  reference  to  Ruth  Ward- 
leigh's  attendance  in  court  on  Monday. 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

\ 

, "  I  presume  that  Luke  will  return  from  Mel 
ton  on  Sunday  with  Miss  Ruth?"  I  remarked. 

"  I  so  understand  from  Dr.  Guthrie,"  he  re 
plied.  "  The  doctor  had  a  wire  from  Dr.  Wil 
lis  this  morning,  saying  that  she  was  quite  well 
and  that  Mrs.  Walton  was  very  much  better." 

"  Speaking  of  Wardleigh,"  said  I,  "  there  is 
much  that  I  do  not  know  in  regard  to  his  own 
connection  with  his  own  case,  if  you  will  allow 
the  expression.  When  we  prosecute  a  man  for 
a  crime  we  usually  deem  it  necessary  to  show — 
to  point  out — that  he  had  a  motive.  But  here  is 
an  instance  where  an  accused  person  voluntarily 
allowed  himself  to  remain  under  the  imputation 
of  having  committed  a  crime,  when  a  word  from 
him  would  have  led  to  the  detection  and  arrest 
of  the  real  criminal.  What  was  his  motive  ?" 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Grafton,  that  you  are  entitled 
to  know  the  whole  story  before  proceeding  any 
further  with  your  plan  to  vindicate  Luke.  You 
will  remember  that  when  I  saw  you  in  the  even 
ing  after  his  conviction,  a  week  ago  to-night, 
I  said  that  I  was  bound  by  a  sacred  promise  not 
to  divulge  his  secret.  He  has  since  released 
me  from  that  promise,  and  I  am  free  to  tell  you 
all. 


THE   SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY        253 

"  When  Luke  concluded  to  remain  at  Melton," 
continued  Lloyd,  "  his  sister,  Mrs.  Walton,  as 
I  have  said,  was  quite  ill.  There  seemed  to  be 
no  apparent  cause  for  her  ailment.  She  suf 
fered  excruciating  pain  at  times,  which  finally 
led  the  doctor  to  think  "that  she  had  cancer  of 
the  stomach;  but  Luke  discovered,  as  he  be 
lieved,  that  her  trouble  was  more  of  the  mind 
than  of  the  body,  and  that  she  was  distressed 
in  regard  to  her  husband.  From  some  vague 
remark  that  she  made  he  was  led  to  suspect  that 
she  knew  some  terrible  secret  affecting  his  honor 
and  safety.  Still,  she  told  her  brother  nothing, 
and  he  waited,  in  the  mean  time  attending  her 
with  affectionate  tenderness.  He  did  not  sus 
pect  the  truth,  and  had  not  the  slightest  sus 
picion  that  Robert  Walton  was  a  thief  until  that 
morning  when  the  inspectors  entered  the  post- 
office  and  showed  that  the  registered  mail  had 
been  rifled.  Then  it  all  flashed  upon  his  mind 
in  an  instant.  He  remembered  that  on  one  or 
two  occasions  he  had  missed  the  registered  pack 
ages,  but  had  thought  that  Walton  had  put  them 
in  his  own  desk.  Now  he  saw  that  they  had 
been  taken  home  by  Robert,  and  that  most  likely 
Grace  had  seen  him  in  the  act  of  tampering  with 


254    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

the  letters.  In  the  agony  of  that  moment  he 
formed  his  plan.  The  disgrace  of  Robert  Wal 
ton  would  kill  his  wife,  Luke's  twin  sister.  He 
would  save  them.  The  inspectors  had  com 
mitted  the  mistake  of  blindly  following  a  sus 
picion  and  had  arrested  the  wrong  man.  But 
surely  the  law  would  not  convict  an  innocent 
person,  and  in  the  mean  time  attention  would 
be  diverted  from  Robert. 

"  The  inspectors  allowed  him  to  see  Grace 
before  they  left  Melton.  The  interview  was 
heart-rending.  He  told  her  that  he  knew  all 
and  that  he  would  save  her  husband.  She  threw 
herself  at  his  feet  and  begged  him  to  take  her 
life.  He  succeeded  in  calming  her  and  in  con 
vincing  her  that  he  would  be  acquitted. 

"Archibald  Kenton  was  Luke's  classmate,  and 
Luke  told  him  everything,  charging  him  sacredly 
to  allow  no  imputations  to  rest  upon  Robert 
Walton.  Kenton  was  over-sanguine,  as  most 
attorneys  are. 

"  I  was  at  Tucson  when  my  uncle  telegraphed 
me  of  Luke's  arrest,  assuring  me  in  the  despatch, 
what  I  did  not  need  assurance  of,  that  he  was  in 
nocent.  As  soon  as  possible  I  came  up.  I 
was  greatly  embarrassed  by  my  connection  with 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

the  department  of  justice,  but  upon  telegraphing 
the  attorney-general,  offering  to  resign,  and 
giving  as  my  reason  that  the  accused  in  this  case 
was  my  friend  and  that  I  wished  to  advise  him, 
I  was  requested  to  withdraw  my  resignation, 
and  was  authorized  to  consider  myself  relieved 
of  official  responsibility  in  the  case  of  Luke 
Wardleigh." 

It  was  now  noon,  and  I  invited  Farrington  to 
lunch  with  me.  We  rode  up  to  the  rooms  of 
the  Bar  Association,  where  I  thought  that  I 
might  meet  Judge  Tremwick.  I  wanted  to  con 
sult  him  in  a  matter  entirely  foreign  to  the  Ward 
leigh  case. 

We  met  the  judge  and  lunched  together. 
Lloyd  threw  off  his  melancholy  somewhat,  and 
was  brilliant  in  the  discussion  of  a  public  ques 
tion  of  absorbing  interest  which  had  just  been 
passed  upon  by  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  State. 
He  evinced  a  surprising  knowledge  of  the  law 
involved ;  so  much  so  that  his  remarks  attracted 
general  attention  at  the  table.  Judge  Tremwick 
had  introduced  him  as  his  nephew.  I  think  that 
every  one  present  supposed  him  to  be  a  member 
of  the  bar. 

After  luncheon  the  judge  and  I  withdrew  to 


256    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

the  library,  leaving  Lloyd  to  smoke  with  two 
or  three  attorneys  of  his  acquaintance  who  had 
been  in  the  law  school  with  him  six  years  be 
fore,  and  who  were  now  rising  and  prosperous 
in  the  profession. 

When  we  had  concluded  the  business  on  which 
I  had  sought  him,  the  judge  asked  me  what  I 
thought  of  his  nephew.  I  expressed  my  admi 
ration  and  affection  for  him,  and  remarked  that 
he  seemed  to  display  a  keen  appreciation  of  the 
law,  and  that  it  was  unfortunate  that  he  had 
not  followed  his  original  bent. 

"  I  understand  from  my  sister,"  said  he,  "  that 
you  have  been  told  the  sad  circumstances  which 
sent  him  away  from  his  home  and  studies.  You 
seem  not  to  know,  however,  that  during  all  these 
years  he  has  kept  up  his  legal  studies  and  is,  in 
fact,  now  a  member  of  the  bar." 

"You  surprise  and  gratify  me  exceedingly," 
I  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  judge,  "  it  is  a  source 
of  much  comfort  to  me  and  to  his  mother.  I 
have  supplied  him  with  books  when  necessary 
and  have  directed  his  reading.  Two  years  ago, 
being  at  Prescott,  in  Arizona,  he  presented  him 
self  before  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  Territory 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY         257 

for  examination  and  passed  with  credit,  as  I  have 
been  told  by  one  of  the  judges  whom  I  know." 
"  He  may  soon  enter  into  practice  at  our 
bar,"  I  said,  rather  mysteriously.  The  judge 
looked  at  me  with  surprise,  and  evidently  did 
not  imagine  what  I  meant.  I  offered  no  expla 
nation  of  my  remark  and  we  parted. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

THE    SEQUEL    TO    THE    TRAGEDY 

WHEN  the  United  States  District  Court 
opened  on  Monday,  in  addition  to  the  full  panel 
of  jurors  there  were  present  all  of  the  witnesses 
who  had  appeared  at  the  first  trial  of  Wardleigh, 
including  Mr.  Jordan,  his  daughter  Edith,  and 
one  or  two  others.  There  were  also  an  unusual 
number  of  spectators,  and,  just  before  the  pre 
siding  judge  entered,  Judge  Tremwick  came  in 
escorting  Mrs.  Farrington  and  Dr.  Guthrie  with 
Ruth  Wardleigh. 

In  venturing  to  describe  the  interesting,  ab 
sorbing,  and  dramatic  proceedings  which  took 
place  on  the  second  trial  of  Wardleigh  I  find 
myself  embarrassed;  and  I  may  now  make  the 
same  remark  in  regard  to  the  account  hereto 
fore  detailed  of  the  preliminary  proceedings  and 
the  first  trial.  The  writer  of  a  story  finds  him 
self  necessarily  limited  and  controlled  by  exist 
ing  and  recognized  forms.  It  is  something  the 
same  as  in  dramatic  composition.  The  require- 
258 


THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY         259 

ments  that  there  shall  be  no  violent  departure 
from  established  forms  of  representation,  what 
ever  changes  may  have  occurred  in  the  world 
beyond  the  stage,  leads  to  the  eternal  repetition 
of  scenes  which  are  unlike  the  realities  of  life. 
Not  that  realism — realistic  representation — is 
the  desideratum,  for  the  idealization  of  nature 
and  of  human  life  should  be  the  aim  and  end  of 
art.  Only  this,  that  art  fails  when  it  is  not  true 
to  the  idealized  realities  of  nature  and  human 
experience.  I  must  therefore  beg  those  who 
may  read  this  story  to  accept  my  assertion  that 
the  court  affairs  and  proceedings  which  I  have 
described  and  am  about  to  describe  are  just  as 
they  happened  in  this  case,  and  as  they  might 
happen  in  that  court  any  day  under  similar  ex 
ceptional  circumstances.  If  it  does  not  all  seem 
natural,  I  can  only  say  that  the  model  of  com 
parison  in  the  reader's  mind  is  at  fault. 

When  Dr.  Guthrie  and  his  party  came  in  I 
had  already  assumed  my  place  to  the  right  of 
the  bar,  near  the  jury-box.  Wardleigh  sat  at 
the  bar  at  my  left  with  his  attorney,  Archibald 
Kenton.  His  friends  and  relatives  took  seats 
at  a  long  table  immediately  behind,  though  they 
were  near  the  end  in  front  of  which  I  sat.  Lloyd 


26o    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

Farrington  was  not  present,  but  in  my  private 
office  across  the  corridor. 

I  noticed  that  Miss  Jordan  had  an  expectant 
and  confident  look ;  her  eyes  were  bright  and  her 
face  flushed.  Mrs.  Farrington  was  calm  and 
self-poised,  though  she  cast  an  anxious  glance 
from  time  to  time  towards  Luke  Wardleigh. 
Miss  Ruth  was  pale  and  nervous ;  she  seemed  to 
rely  upon  Dr.  Guthrie,  who  sat  by  her  side. 
He  occasionally  spoke  to  her,  apparently  to  re 
assure  her. 

The  judge  entered  from  his  chambers  and 
took  the  bench,  the  bailiff  made  proclamation, 
the  clerk  called  the  list  of  jurors,  and  then  the 
case  of  The  United  States  against  Luke  Ward 
leigh;  both  sides  answered  ready.  Without 
any  delay  we  proceeded  to  select  a  jury.  I 
stated  to  the  court  that  by  reason  of  the  peculiar 
circumstances  of  the  case  I  had  agreed  with 
the  defendant's  counsel  to  select  the  same  jurors 
who  had  been  impanelled  upon  the  former  trial. 
The  judge  expressed  some  doubt  as  to  the  pro 
priety  of  adopting  so  unusual  a  course,  but  said 
that  since  it  was  by  consent  he  would  not  inter 
fere.  Accordingly,  as  the  jurors  were  called  to 
the  box  we  mutually  excused  all  who  had  not 


THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY        26l 

sat  on  the  first  trial,  until  we  had  thus  selected 
the  same  twelve.  No  questions  were  asked  of 
them  and  they  were  not  sworn.  I  thereupon 
made  a  succinct  opening  statement,  confining 
myself  to  a  brief  outline  of  the  charges  of  the 
indictment.  I  then  proposed  to  shorten  the 
trial  by  reading  to  the  jury  so  much  of  the  evi 
dence  of  the  witnesses  for  the  government  who 
had  testified  before  as  I  intended  to  offer.  To 
this  Kenton  assented,  and  the  judge  saw  no  ob 
jection.  I  then  directed  the  official  stenographer 
to  read  from  his  transcribed  notes;  this  he  did 
in  a  rapid,  clear  voice.  I  introduced  no  testi 
mony,  however,  except  as  to  the  particular 
charges  set  forth  in  the  four  counts  of  the  in 
dictment.  I  had  gone  over  the  transcript  and 
marked  by  blue  enclosing  lines  all  that  I  wanted 
read,  so  there  was  no  delay.  The  reading  oc 
cupied  an  hour  and  a  half. 

Meanwhile,  I  had  an  opportunity  to  more 
closely  observe  the  interesting  assembly.  Very 
little  attention  was  paid  to  the  evidence  by  any 
one  outside  of  the  jury  except  by  Miss  Ruth 
Wardleigh.  She  listened,  however,  with  ab 
sorbed  attention.  She  alone,  of  all  those  present 
who  were  interested  in  her  brother,  was  not  in 


262    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

the  secret  that  these  proceedings  were  a  mere 
form  to  allow  a  verdict  of  acquittal  and  vindica 
tion.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  evidence  to  be 
produced  which  would  explain  the  inculpating 
facts.  The  testimony,  as  she  heard  it  read, 
therefore  created  in  her  mind  a  profound  anx 
iety.  Dr.  Guthrie,  who  sat  where  he  could 
study  her  face,  had  an  intense  strained  look  as 
he  watched  her. 

I  called  one  of  my  assistants  to  my  place  for 
a  moment  and  went  to  my  office.  Farrington 
was  walking  up  and  down  like  a  caged  animal. 
Guthrie,  the  night  before,  had  explained  to  him 
in  full  the  details  of  the  critical  experiment  which 
he  was  making,  with  my  aid.  I  assured  him 
that  everything  was  proceeding  with  precision 
and  regularity  and  urged  him  to  be  calm.  I 
then  returned  to  the  court-room. 

When  the  reading  of  the  evidence  was  con 
cluded,  Kenton,  who  had  been  told  by  me  of 
our  desire  to  produce  a  climax  in  the  defence, 
said  that  he  would  waive  an  opening  statement. 
He  then  offered  the  German  cigar  dealer,  who 
testified  to  the  entries  in  his  sales  book.  Ken- 
ton  stated  that  his  object  was  to  explain  the 
finding  of  the  marked  coin  in  Luke's  pocket 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY         263 

The  judge  followed  the  witness  closely,  cross- 
examined  him  a  good  deal,  and  became  quite 
excited.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  newly  dis 
covered  facts. 

"  Mr.  District  Attorney,"  said  he,  interrupting 
the  proceedings  in  this  way,  "  if  this  evidence  is 
to  be  believed,  and  I  express  no  opinion,  it  would 
seem  that  you  have  placed  the  wrong  man  on 
trial.  There  has  apparently  been  a  blunder. 
Pardon  me  for  asking  if  you  have  taken  pro 
ceedings  to  cause  the  arrest  of  the  right  per 
son?" 

I  replied,  solemnly,  "  He  has  gone,  your 
Honor,  to  answer  for  his  offence  to  a  higher 
tribunal." 

"  Dead  ?"  he  inquired,  his  voice  indicating 
astonishment  and  a  certain  reverence. 

I  heard  a  sob,  and  looking  around,  saw  Ruth 
Wardleigh's  face.  In  its  expression  there  was 
a  mingling  of  joy  and  anguish. 

The  German  stepped  down  from  the  stand. 

"  I  now  offer  and  propose  to  read  to  the  jury, 
with  the  consent  of  the  district  attorney,"  said 
Kenton,  slowly  and  deliberately,  "the  confes 
sion  of  the  late  Robert  Walton,  postmaster  at 
Melton,  signed  by  him  a  moment  before  his 


264    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

death.  I  will  produce  the  witness  who  reduced 
the  confesion  to  writing  at  the  dictation  of  the 
deceased  and  who  saw  him  sign  it." 

While  Kenton  was  speaking  of  Robert  Wal 
ton's  confession  I  gave  a  prearranged  signal  to 
a  deputy  marshal  who  was  in  attendance ;  there 
upon  he  left  the  court-room  and  returned  just 
as  Kenton  concluded.  He  brought  in  a  prisoner, 
who  was  none  other  that  Rolla  Clanton.  I  had 
caused  him  to  be  produced  for  a  purpose. 

There  was  nothing  irregular  or  out  of  the 
usual  in  the  proceeding ;  on  the  contrary,  it  came 
about  in  the  ordinary  course.  A  full  week  had 
passed  since  his  arrest.  The  police  authorities 
of  the  city  had  turned  him  over  to  the  marshal 
at  Farrington's  suggestion  the  day  that  he  left 
for  Melton.  Before  going,  Farrington  had  tele 
graphed  to  the  United  States  marshal  at  Tuc 
son  to  send  a  deputy  with  the  necessary  papers 
for  the  removal  of  Clanton  and  his  return  to  the 
Yuma  prison.  There  was  some  necessary  delay, 
I  suppose,  in  getting  the  authenticated  docu 
ments,  and  the  deputy  who  was  to  take  Clanton 
back  did  not  arrive  until  the  end  of  the  week. 
In  the  mean  time  Clanton  had  been  held  on  a 
warrant  issued  by  one  of  the  commissioners  of 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY         265 

the  Circuit  Court,  as  they  were  then  styled,  who 
were  the  committing  magistrates  under  the  Fed 
eral  system.  The  necessary  complaint  to  obtain 
the  warrant  had  been  sworn  to  by  one  of  the 
deputy  marshals  of  the  district  who  had  been  a 
guard  at  Yuma  a  year  or  two  before  and  who 
knew  Clanton.  I  remember  that  Farrington  was 
pleased  to  find  that  there  was  some  one  other 
than  himself  who  could  make  oath  to  the  iden 
tity  of  Clanton.  He  did  not  want  to  be  de 
tained  from  his  trip  to  Melton. 

Before  the  court  met  that  day,  or  just  as  it 
met,  one  of  my  assistants  had  conducted  the 
brief  examination  before  the  commissioner. 
Clanton  declined  to  have  counsel,  and  made  no 
effort  to  defeat  or  obstruct  the  course  of  the 
law.  His  identity  was  established  beyond  ques 
tion;  an  authenticated  copy  of  the  record  of 
his  conviction  and  sentence  by  the  court  of 
Arizona,  together  with  the  commitment  upon 
which  he  had  been  held  by  the  prison  authori 
ties  at  Yuma,  were  produced  by  the  deputy  who 
had  come  up  from  Tucson.  The  commissioner, 
accordingly,  held  the  prisoner  to  be  returned  to 
Arizona. 

Under  the  practice  it  was  necessary  to  obtain 


266    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

from  the  judge  of  the  district  court  an  order 
of  removal.  Such  orders  are  issued  in  open 
court  and  in  the  presence  of  the  prisoner,  who 
is  produced  for  that  purpose. 

It  is  quite  common  to  interrupt  a  trial  to  ob 
tain  an  order  where  it  is  not  contested.  There 
fore,  as  I  say,  there  was  nothing  irregular  or 
out  of  the  usual  in  the  production  of  Clanton 
in  court  during  the  Wardleigh  trial.  Kenton 
took  his  seat  and  I  arose,  made  an  apology  to 
the  judge  for  interrupting  the  trial,  and  asked 
for  the  necessary  order  to  remove  Clanton  to 
Arizona.  The  judge  was  annoyed,  but  upon 
my  explaining  that  there  was  no  opposition  and 
that  the  deputy  from  Arizona  desired  to  make 
preparations  for  his  departure  that  day,  he  di 
rected  that  the  order  be  drawn  and  entered; 
but  he  said,  rather  petulantly,  that  he  would  not 
sign  the  order  until  recess,  or  until  the  con 
clusion  of  the  pending  trial.  He  was  apparently 
as  much  interested  in  the  Wardleigh  case  as 
Miss  Ruth,  and  about  as  well  informed  as  to 
what  was  going  on. 

Another  incident  and  one  of  a  very  exciting 
and  dramatic  character  had  occurred  in  the 
court-room  during  this  brief  interruption. 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 


267 


By  my  direction  Clanton'was  brought  to  the 
bar  at  the  extreme  left,  and  farthest  away  from 
my  seat.  Standing  there  in  the  close  custody  of 
two  deputy  marshals,  for  his  irons  had  been 
removed,  his  face  could  be  distinctly  seen  by 
those  who  sat  with  Dr.  Guthrie  at  the  long  table 
back  of  the  bar. 

When  I  addressed  the  court  in  regard  to  the 
Clanton  matter,  Miss  Ruth,  thinking  that  Luke's 
case  was  still  going  on,  listened  intently.  I 
stood  with  my  back  to  the  jury  and  facing  so 
that  I  could  see  her  while  I  was  addressing  the 
judge.  I  noticed  a  look  of  surprise  on  her 
face  when  she  understood  that  I  was  not  talking 
about  the  absorbing  matter  which  had  brought 
her  there.  Like  the  judge,  she  too  was  annoyed 
at  the  interruption.  As  I  concluded  my  request 
I  stepped  back  and  drew  quite  near  Dr.  Guthrie 
and  Miss  Wardleigh ;  the  judge  turned  to  where 
the  prisoner  Clanton  stood  to  see  if  there  was 
any  objection  to  the  order  of  removal.  Quite 
naturally  Miss  Ruth  followed  the  eyes  of  the 
judge,  and  looked  at  Clanton  also.  The  miser 
able  fellow,  all  bedraggled  and  redolent  of  the 
cell  from  which  he  had  been  taken,  was  never 
theless  defiant  and,  in  a  certain  indefinable  way 


268    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

that  recalled  the  stories  I  had  heard  of  his  early 
life,  dignified,  and  even  proud  in  his  bearing. 
The  judge,  who  was  a  profound  student  of 
human  nature,  looked  at  him  the  second  time 
with  interest. 

I  was  only  concerned  now  with  Ruth  Ward- 
leigh.  The  moment  she  saw  Clanton's  face, 
which  showed  upon  the  side  towards  her  the 
blood-red  claw, — the  moment  she  saw  him, 
wrought  up  as  she  was,  her  perceptive  powers 
inordinately  quickened,  she  evidently  recognized 
him.  A  puzzled  and  then  a  startled  look  swept 
over  her  own  face.  My  own  senses  were  un 
usually  keen,  and  I  heard  her  whisper  to  Guth- 
rie,— 

"  Heavens !  what  is  this,  Dr.  Guthrie  ?  That 
man  is  the  villain  I  saw  in  my  dreams.  What 
does  it  mean?  What  has  he  to  do  with  my 
brother's  case?" 

"Nothing,  Miss  Ruth,"  replied  Harvey; 
"  but  if  he  is  indeed  the  man  you  saw,  he  was 
probably  arrested  by  or  at  the  instance  of  the 
one  he  was  pursuing.  Perhaps  he  also  is  here." 
With  this  Harvey  affected  to  glance  around  the 
court-room. 

She  was  startled  still  more,  and  seemed  to 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A  TRAGEDY         269 

gasp,  though  her  eyes  shone  and  the  color  rose  to 
her  cheeks  as  she  also  glanced  about.  Evidently 
Guthrie  wished  to  arouse  her  expectation  to  a 
high  pitch,  and  he  said, — 

"  But  as  to  that,  Miss  Ruth,  wait.  All  in 
good  time.  Remember  what  I  promised  you  at 
Melton.  Now,  however,"  he  continued,  as 
he  saw  Kenton  about  to  rise  again  as  Clanton 
was  being  taken  out,  "  let  us  first  see  your 
brother  Luke  vindicated." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  sighed ;  but  I  could  see  that 
her  mind  was  bent  upon  the  other  subject.  She 
was  already  convinced  of  Luke's  absolute  inno 
cence;  indeed,  she  had  never  doubted  it. 

Kenton  arose.  "  Before  the  interruption," 
said  he,  "  I  was  about  to  produce  the  witness  to 
4he  confession  of  Robert  Walton,  which  will  be 
read  to  the  jury.  Before  doing  so  I  desire  first 
to  examine  the  gentleman  from  whom  I  received 
the  confession.  He  is  a  special  agent  of  the 
department  of  justice,  and  it  was  he  who  fur 
nished  the  evidence  which  had  just  been  pro 
duced."  He  paused,  and  there  was  a  general 
look  of  expectancy  in  the  room.  It  was  the 
crucial  moment.  Ruth's  interest  in  the  trial 
seemed  to  be  suddenly  aroused  again,  and  she 


270         THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY 

looked  intently  at  Kenton.  From  the  expres 
sion  of  her  face  I  was  sure  she  understood  every 
word  he  uttered. 

"  Lloyd  Farrington,  please  take  the  stand," 
continued  Kenton. 

I  had  sent  Farrington  word  by  my  assistant, 
and  a  moment  before  he  had  entered  and  quietly 
taken  a  seat  without  attracting  attention. 

When  Kenton  uttered  his  name  Ruth  started 
as  if  she  had  received  a  severe  electric  shock. 
A  bewildered  look  swept  over  her  face.  She 
glanced  inquiringly  and  with  a  half-frightened 
expression  at  Mrs.  Farrington.  I  had  taken  a 
chair  near  Guthrie.  I  remember  that  I  pitied 
him.  He  was  pale,  and  his  face  had  a  pained 
and  pinched  expression  from  intense  anxiety. 
Farrington  stepped  forward.  As  he  passed 
Ruth  she  could  not  see  his  face,  and  as  he  walked 
up  to  the  witness-stand  his  back  was  towards 
her;  he  stood  in  that  position  for  a  moment, 
while  the  clerk  administered  the  oath.  Ruth 
had  leaned  forward  and  had  grasped  with  one 
hand  the  table  at  which  they  sat.  Lloyd  turned, 
standing  erect.  His  face  was  white  but  he  was 
calm,  and  even  in  that  absorbing  moment  I  had 
time  to  think  that  he  was  the  handsomest  man 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY         2?l 

I  had  ever  seen.  My  glance  towards  him  was 
only  for  a  fraction  of  a  second.  I  looked  at 
Ruth.  There  was  an  expression  on  her  face  I 
had  not  seen  there  before.  She  seemed  as  if 
she  were  awaking. 

"  Be  firm,  be  calm,"  I  heard  Guthrie  say  in 
a  low,  earnest  tone. 

"  Oh,  doctor,"  she  whispered,  scarcely  above 
her  breath,  and  yet  in  the  intensity  of  the  mo 
ment  I  could  hear  every  word.  "  It  is  he,  it  is 
he,  and  I  have  known  him  before." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  in  the  same  tone,  but  speak 
ing  rapidly,  "  he  is  Mrs.  Farrington's  son.  You 
knew  him  before  the  death  of  your  parents. 
You  loved  him.  He  was  worthy  of  your  love. 
You  forgot  him,  but  he  has  loved  you  all  these 
years." 

"  Yes,  doctor,  I  know  now;  God  forgive  me." 

"  No,  it  was  not  your  fault,  and  Lloyd  blames 
you  not." 

Farrington  had  taken  his  seat  in  the  witness- 
stand.  A  look  from  Guthrie  assured  him.  He 
answered  the  few  questions  which  Kenton  asked 
him  quietly  and  calmly,  explaining  his  discovery 
of  the  cigar  dealer's  book  and  his  possession  of 
Walton's  confession.  As  he  stepped  down,  and 


272    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

at  a  glance  from  Guthrie,  he  walked  to  where 
they  were  and  took  a  seat  by  his  mother,  who 
was  then  between  him  and  Ruth,  the  doctor 
being  on  the  other  side.  I  saw  Ruth  lean  over 
slightly  towards  Mrs.  Farrington  and  I  heard 
her  whisper, — 

"  Tell  him,  dear,  that  I  know  hirn, — that  I 
know  him  to  be  noble  and  true ;  that  I  remember 
all."  He  heard  her,  and  they  exchanged  a 
glance  that  spoke  a  world  of  pent-up  love.  Ah, 
what  joy  transfigured  the  beautiful  face  of  his 
mother ! 

These  later  events,  so  absorbing  to  me  and 
so  vitally  important  to  those  concerned,  passed 
without  attracting  much  attention  in  the  court 
room.  There  were  some  curious  glances  from 
the  jurors,  and  the  whispering  slightly  dis 
turbed  the  judge,  so  that  the  bailiff  gently 
rapped  the  desk  with  his  pencil. 

The  trial  was  now  soon  over.  Kenton  proved 
the  confession  by  Willard,  read  it  to  the  jury, 
and  then  rested  his  defence.  We  agreed  to  sub 
mit  the  case  upon  the  charge  of  the  court.  His 
Honor  in  a  few  well-chosen  words  spoke  of  the 
fortunate  vindication  of  the  accused  and  directed 
the  jury  to  acquit.  Without  leaving  the  box 


THE   SEQUEL  TO   A   TRAGEDY         273 

they  did  so.  The  verdict  was  entered,  the  pris 
oner  discharged,  and  the  court  adjourned.  I 
bowed  to  the  ladies  and  withdrew,  passing  across 
the  corridor  to  my  offices  and  to  my  private 
room. 

I  was  not  long  left  alone.  My  chief  clerk  an 
nounced,  "  Judge  Tremwick  and  friends."  They 
entered,  and  I  offered  them  seats. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Grafton,"  said  the  judge,  with 
that  dignity  and  self-possession  for  which  he  is 
so  noted  at  the  bar,  "  it  is  due  to  ourselves  that 
we  should  make  this  formal  call,  to  thank  you 
for  your  great  kindness." 

I  stammered  my  appreciation  and  tried  to 
say  something  about  having  merely  done  my 
duty,  when  Lloyd  arose  and  came  over  to  where 
I  stood. 

"  Pardon  me,  uncle,  and  you,  Mr.  Grafton," 
said  he  in  his  soft,  gentle  voice,  "  but  there  is 
something  more  to  be  said."  He  paused  an 
instant  and  they  all  arose :  Ruth  stepped  to  his 
side.  "  My  friend,  Luke  Wardleigh,  to  whom 
I  owe  my  life,  as  Mr.  Grafton  knows,  and  who 
is  so  brave  and  true,  has  been  honorably  ac 
quitted  and  vindicated,  and  my  uncle  is  right 
in  thanking  our  friend  in  our  names.  But, 
18 


274    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

as  I  say,  that  is  not  all.  This  dear  woman, 
Luke's  sister,  whom  I  have  loved  with  my  whole 
soul  and  life,  was  living  in  the  seemingly  im 
penetrable  shadow  of  a  tragic  sorrow;  through 
the  science  and  skill  of  our  friend,  Dr.  Guthrie, 
aided  by  Mr.  Grafton,  she  has  been  brought 
back  into  the  light!" 

"  For  which  let  us  thank  our  Heavenly 
Father,"  said  Mr.  Jordan,  in  a  tone  of  such 
deep  and  thrilling  reverence  that  we  all  stood 
in  silence  for  a  moment. 

"  I  find  my  full  reward  in  the  approval  of 
Lloyd  Farrington/'  said  Dr.  Guthrie  in  his  pecu 
liar  musical  tone. 

Then  to  relieve  the  strain  I  turned  with  an 
inquiring  smile  to  Miss  Edith,  and  to  Luke,  who 
was  near  her.  She  blushed,  but  spoke  up 
bravely, — 

"  Yes,  I  confess.  And  why  not  ?  He  saved 
my  life  also.  I  knew  that  he  was  innocent;  I 
proclaimed  it  in  court  and  argued  it  to  you." 

We  all  laughed  a  little,  and  her  father,  with 
a  benevolent  smile,  made  a  graceful  motion  with 
his  hands  as  if  to  bless  them. 

"  I  now  understand,"  said  Judge  Tremwick, 
turning  to  me,  "  the  remark  that  you  made 


THE    SEQUEL   TO   A   TRAGEDY 


275 


yesterday  at  the  Bar  Association  in  regard  to 
the  possibility  of  my  nephew  entering  into  prac 
tice.  Let  me  prove  you  a  prophet.  Lloyd," 
— he  turned  to  Farrington, — "  I  offer  you  a 
partnership  in  my  professional  business. 
'  Tremwick  &  Farrington'  will  sound  well." 
There  was  a  gentle  clapping  of  hands  all  round. 
Farrington  thanked  his  uncle  and  accepted,  re 
marking  that  it  would  please  his  mother;  and 
she  said  to  her  brother  that  he  had  filled  her 
cup  of  joy  to  the  brim. 

"And  I  too,  dear  Lloyd,"  exclaimed  Ruth, 
with  a  world  of  clinging  tenderness  in  her  voice, 
"  am  so  happy  over  this  fortune.  You  will  no 
longer  be  separated  from  your  mother  and" — 
her  voice  fell  a  little — "  I  will  not  be  obliged 
to  follow  you  in  my  dreams." 

There  was  a  slight  pause  and  a  movement 
as  if  to  take  leave  of  me,  when  Lloyd  arrested 
the  attention  of  all  for  a  moment. 

"  Mr.  Grafton,"  said  he,  "  I  can  never  forget 
the  glorious  splendor  of  that  night  in  Arizona. 
I  recall  the  scene  when  the  morning  stars  paled 
and  the  light  of  dawn  appeared.  I  had  just 
concluded  the  story  of  my  life,  as  1  termed  it. 
I  then  thought  that  the  tragedy  which  I  had  de- 


276    THE  SEQUEL  TO  A  TRAGEDY 

scribed  was  the  end.  You  bade  me  hope,  and 
predicted,  as  you  pointed  to  the  breaking  day, 
that  the  future  had  brighter  and  happier  hours 
in  store  for  me.  You  were  right.  I  have  found 
them  in  this  Sequel  to  the  Tragedy." 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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DUE  2  WKS  FRu... 


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«' 


WKS  Utti 
\\CL 


Form  L9-37m-3,'57(C5424s4)444 


PS 


Dibble  - 


1537     The  sequel  to  a 
D54s     tragedy 


PS 

1537 

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